


The Devil Will Knock You Down

by saucyminx



Series: Devil Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second Devil!Verse story. What if Dean was Ruby!?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The door shook on its hinges as Sam nearly kicked it open, inhaling sharply to try and ease the intense burn of anger coursing through him. He could feel Dean’s eyes on his back, watching him, and it didn’t make anything easier. He tossed his keys hard onto the table, kicking off his shoes and nearly tearing out of his jacket.

Behind him he could hear Dean’s inhale and his hand shot up to the side, jaw clenching. “Don’t, Dean. I should have done better. It shouldn’t have ended like that.” He almost hissed the words, balling up the jacket and tossing it hard enough to knock a chair over.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Dean locked it and looked over at Sam's tense shoulders. Sighing he toed out of his boots and headed over to the chair to stand it back up. "Okay. Not that this display isn't really impressive, but can you tone it down a little? You did _good_ , Sam. You're really close to being able to pull demons. I mean - cut yourself some slack."

“It’s not good enough. Not if it means you kill the person after.” Sam clenched his fists, breathing deeply to ease off some of the tension. It wasn’t working. “They always go back in. Doesn’t matter how much blood I take, how often I do it. _Fuck_. By now I should be able to do this.” Frustrated, irritated, Sam roughly tore his shirt off. It was drenched in sweat anyway and he just wanted to stop being reminded of the moment.

“It’s only been weeks, Sam. Fuck - you just started this I mean, come on. Dude, you’re harder on yourself than anyone I’ve ever met.” Shaking his head, Dean walked over to the hunter and pressed his palm to the bare skin of Sam’s back. The muscles tightened under his touch.

“Dean,” Sam spun to him, eyes narrowing. “Once, maybe twice, I get not being able to do it, but Jesus I should be able to by now.” His hand tore roughly up through his hair, gaze dropping away from Dean. “How many people are dying now because I can’t do this?”

"No more than were dying before, Sam. You think that these demons don't kill some of these people they ride? Don't flatter yourself." Dean shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over Sam's. "And you're all sweaty. You should shower." He poked his finger at Sam's chest and then turned away because, seriously, Sam was hot when he was angry.

“Gee thanks for being so supportive.” Sam rolled his eyes and turned away, stooping down to tug off his socks. “I know _exactly_ how often the demons kill those people. Remember the little boy? The reason I gave in to begin with. Well, most of the reason.” Sam muttered and shook his head, pulling at his jeans. “I’m trying my hardest and it isn’t working. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Dean’s eyes lingered on that amazing groove just above Sam’s hip, in between the muscles. Blinking, he looked up and licked his lips quickly. “We’ll figure it out, Sam. We figured out where those stupid ass vampires were living. And. And _and_ that gross whatever slimy thing that was that I killed. Just. Fuck that was nasty. But my point is - you. You know, you have this, part of your body...”

Wandering forward, Dean traced the furrow above Sam’s hip with his finger and tilted his head.

“Seriously?” Sam’s brow lifted, gaze turning down to Dean. His skin tingled with warmth like it always did when Dean touched him, but he was still struggling against the agitation from before. “Dean. This doesn’t- this isn’t-” Sam’s breath hitched in his chest when Dean’s finger kept moving down his body. “I’m trying to be pissed off here. You’re not helping.”

Lifting his gaze slowly, Dean stepped closer. “Be pissed off if you like. It’s not gonna change things. Just wears you out ... wears you down.” Rolling his bottom lip under his teeth, Dean shrugged a shoulder, fingers still rubbing back and forth along the definition under Sam’s abs.

“It just gets you hot when I’m pissed off.” Sam muttered but his body was betraying him now, heat stirring up in him at Dean’s touch. His hands slid under Dean’s shirt, pushing up slowly and mapping along his skin. “Also I think I helped kill that slime thing just as much.” His fingers pinched along Dean’s nipple, twisting once and smirking.

Letting out a soft growling sound, Dean curled his fingers over Sam's belt and tugged him roughly forward. Darting forward, he licked at the sweat on Sam's neck and lifted a trembling hand to grasp Sam's bicep. There were so many things about touching Sam that were perfectly sinfully. Perfect, for a demon.

“Dean,” Sam growled low in his throat and spun them, backing Dean up to the bed. He pushed at Dean until the demon stepped back, tugging roughly at Dean’s shirt and throwing it across the room. There was something about Dean, it got right in the pit of Sam’s stomach and curled tightly, pushing him forward and driving him crazy with the desire to _possess_.

Sam tugged at Dean’s jeans, pushing them down roughly over the demon’s hips and groaning. “It’s so _you_ to not wear underwear when we’re doing something like this.” It was also very like Dean to have a smirk on his lips. Sam shoved him hard back on the mattress and made quick work of his own jeans, kicking them off with his boxers and sliding onto the edge of the mattress.

"I think better commando," Dean grumbled. Pushing up on to his elbows, he ran his teeth along Sam's jaw and bit down just hard enough. Flicking his tongue out, he felt the rasp of Sam's ever-present stubble. “How you feelin’ now, Sammy? Want some more?” Dean tilted his head to the side, revealing the still damp wound from earlier that night.

“It’s better, you know.” Sam murmured, and slid forward, pinning Dean to the mattress and tonguing along the wound until it opened once more, blood spilling out across his tongue. “When it’s like this, just you and me.” He spoke around the sharp taste of blood in his mouth, tilting up to press his lips over Dean’s, sharing the taste of blood there. “Doesn’t it feel better?” He whispered against Dean’s lips, rolling his hips slowly down against the demon’s.

“Yes,” Dean whispered. “Feels. Yeah, I want to do this ... alone from now on.” He arched up off the bed, muscles tightly strung and tense. Sam’s mouth was working his flesh, pulling up the blood expertly, tongue lapping at the wound. Trembling, Dean lowered himself to the bed once more and turned his head so he could watch Sam.

Lifting a hand, he smoothed the man’s shaggy hair back from his forehead. “Sam,” he whispered. Rolling toward the hunter he ground his arousal against Sam’s hip, hand pressing Sam’s mouth _hard_ , encouraging him to drink more. As the blood seeped out of his body, heat flowed in and it almost felt like the air around them was crackling with anticipation.

Each mouthful Sam swallowed sent rippling waves of pleasure through him and his body shuddered, shoulders tensing with the heat. Pulling back again, Sam looked up toward Dean, judging his expression. “Too much?” It never seemed like he could take too much from Dean, the demon was always asking for more, pushing him, and Sam’s mind nearly spun with it.

Hand sliding down between them, Sam grazed along his skin and ran over his hip. He slid off Dean’s body, dropping to the side so his fingers could curl around Dean’s cock and slowly slide up. “Don’t want to hurt you.” He murmured, dipping down to gently work his lips over the cut.

"Not hurting me," Dean whispered. The cut stung sure, but knowing Sam wanted this, wanted _him_ was worth so much more. Fingers dragging down over Sam's back, down his side, Dean closed his eyes and panted softly. He had a horrible feeling that he would let Sam draw on his veins until he had nothing left to give.

“Don’t want you to pass out while I’m fucking you.” Sam laughed softly and pushed up from the cut, reaching out to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand. “Think you did last time.” He smirked down at Dean, sliding lube along his fingers and swiftly coating himself. Usually he was more than a little rough. They both preferred it that way, but this time he slipped one finger down and pressed against Dean’s entrance, sliding slowly forward to spread him open.

"Didn't," Dean grunted. But all the fight kind of left him when Sam's finger circled his tight ring of muscle. Lips parted, he stared up at Sam's face, their eyes were locked together, their breath almost synchronized. Dean's legs fell open wider and he tore his gaze from Sam's; sometimes, the look in the hunter's eyes was almost too much.

“Don’t.” Sam murmured, shifting forward with his freehand to tilt Dean’s face back to him. “Want you to look at me.” He twisted his finger deep within Dean, pressing forward until he was sweeping across Dean’s prostate. “Look at me, Dean.” There was an odd, gentle plea to Sam’s words as he slipped a second finger forward, gently easing apart already stretched muscles.

Teeth pressing down painfully on his bottom lip, Dean turned his face back toward Sam's voice. He knew his eyes were fully black; he could feel the power of it, the power of Hell spiraling to life within him. It was _Sam_ ; something about the young hunter just sparked everything to life in him. For some reason, he hated showing his eyes to Sam when they were blackened and lifeless. Leaning up, he chased Sam's mouth, trying to distract the man.

Sam worked two fingers deep within Dean, spreading him apart slowly and kissing him hard and deep. He was pulling back within moments though, staring down at Dean. His fingers tightened on Dean’s jaw when the demon went to turn away. “Stop. Damnit Dean, look at me. I want to see _you_.” He stopped moving, staring wide eyed down at Dean and waiting for the demon to open his eyes.

Dean's throat tightened and he blinked his eyes open slowly. "Sam," he murmured. Jaw tense and twitching, Dean let out a small moan and pushed his hips up off the mattress then tried to pushed his ass down and slide Sam's fingers deep within him. Sam's eyes were gorgeous, the hazel almost completely hidden by the dark of his lust.

“This is you.” Sam whispered and added a third finger to the tight ring of muscle. His eyes danced across Dean’s, as if he could memorize the darkness. When Dean just looked up at him, Sam’s lips twitched in a smile. “That’s you, right there, and I want to see it.” He didn’t really think about what he was saying until after it was out, but he didn’t want to take it back; Dean could interpret it however he wanted.

Shuddering slightly, Dean shifted closer to Sam's warmth. Sam wanted to see _him_ ; it made Dean's stomach twist a little like he was free-falling suddenly. His hand slid up Sam's arm, over the flexing muscles and then up into the soft locks at the nape of the man's neck. "You're makin' me crazy," he mumbled.

Dean's hips were circling slowly, deliberately, and he pushed back a little further onto Sam's fingers each time. He _wanted_ Sam, wanted some kind of release for all the energy building within them. The air was buzzing with it and Dean blinked his eyes a few times as his vision blurred. “Sam, I need you,” he whispered.

“God.” Sam’s shoulders shook, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping up. “You just-” There was no way to describe how Dean made him feel, just by using the words _need you_ , Sam felt like he could lose all control and just _take_ him. “I think you’re making me crazy.” He murmured and pulled his fingers free, sliding back to stroke a hand along himself once more.

“Dean,” he moaned softly and slid forward once more, slipping between Dean’s legs and sliding his arms under the demon’s back to draw him close, up off the bed. He could feel Dean’s legs slide around his body and he pressed forward, sliding just inside Dean and stopping, staring once more. “Stop closing your eyes,” he chuckled quietly, dipping down so his nose ran along Dean’s in a gesture far more affectionate than either was used too.

Dean's lashes fluttered open and he found himself smiling against Sam's lips. Something kind of shuddered deep inside him, like film slipping in a projector and he let out a small gasp. Sam's hard flesh slid in slightly, pulled back, slid back in and Dean moaned in frustration. Staring up, bleary-eyed at Sam, he tilted his head back far enough that he could trail the very tip of his tongue along the curve of Sam's bottom lip. "Fuck me," he murmured.

“What if I just want to take my time with you?” Sam whispered, sliding just a little deeper and back out, rolling his hips and thrusting slowly forward and pulling back out. It made his blood quicken to drive Dean further crazy like this and Sam pushed up just enough to watch the pleasure on his lover’s face. “I think you could use slow.” He murmured and thrust all the way forward in one slow slide, pausing for a long moment buried deep within him before rocking his hips back.

It felt to Dean kind of like he was hanging over a cliff, clinging by his fingertips. Squeezing his legs tight around Sam's waist, his entire body rolled in a wave of muscles clenching and relaxing. Lips twitching into a tortured smile, he let his hands fall to his sides and smoothed them down his own legs then up Sam's chest in one continuous movement.

Staring up into his lover's face, Dean's brow furrowed briefly as something pinched tight in his chest. _Fear_. Sam made him feel so much, so very fast and he felt like the oxygen was being stolen from the room. Giving into Sam's attentions, Dean rocked his hips slowly and matched the man's rhythm. Each hot slide into his ass felt like a little bit of torture and each time Sam pulled away Dean felt like he would stop breathing. Clawing at the back of Sam's neck, his shoulders, he tried to pull his lover down into a kiss.

A soft moan fell from Sam’s lips and he fell forward over Dean, crushing their lips together in a slow and gentle slide. He could spend forever kissing Dean, that had never changed. His body moved slow and steady over Dean’s, all the way out and a gentle rock back in. It had never been this slow for them and Sam was almost certain the energy between them had never felt so intense.

“God, Dean,” he gasped into the kiss and dropped his head down to Dean’s neck, panting against his skin as his thrusts gradually picked up pace. He was almost holding Dean’s body now, nearly lifting him off the bed and Sam couldn’t really name the way his heart seemed to be racing because of that alone.

With Sam's arms folded around him, Dean felt like he was floating. His heart was thundering in his chest and he was panting hard. Turning into Sam's hair, he inhaled deeply, feeling the soft locks against his lips. There was _so_ much welling up inside him and every part of him, every single nerve ending twitched and sparked to life.

Winding his arms round Sam's neck, Dean held on tight, hips moving against Sam's as their bodies rocked together in a steady rhythm. “Sam,” he whispered, “don’t let go.” Trembling, muscles protesting the strain of clinging to Sam’s body, Dean moaned low in his throat and leaned down to bury his teeth in the corded muscles of Sam’s neck.

Closing his eyes, Sam lost himself in the feel of Dean pressed so closely against him. He was pretty sure he’d never been this close to a person before and he was positive it could never be as amazing as it was with Dean. “I won’t,” he whispered, far too long after Dean had spoken. It seemed like time was slipping away from them here, like they were lost in another world.

His hips moved steadily faster, his arms around Dean tightening and locking into place. Sam ran his nose along Dean’s jaw, drawing him in so their lips could meet and brush. He moaned into the kiss, pressing down against Dean, trying to get impossibly closer because it felt like there couldn’t be enough of Dean. “M’gonna make you fall apart just like this,” he breathed the words into Dean’s mouth, not wanting to let go of him even for a moment.

Sighing out a half moan, Dean clung to Sam. One hand tangled in Sam's long hair, the other gripping his shoulder _hard_. The heat of Sam's breath on his mouth was like some kind of spark sending a fire of lust curling around his spine. Gasping softly, Dean panted faster, hips rocking up, ankles locked behind Sam's back.

He could feel the hunter's body, _his_ hunter's body; every muscle under Sam's flesh was rippling and shifting as he thrust into Dean. Then a subtle shift of Sam's body and the head of his cock slid past Dean's prostate and he whimpered into their heated kiss.

It was almost surreal, how absolutely gorgeous Sam found Dean at this moment. He couldn’t say specifically what it was, but it felt like his skin was sparking with little bursts of lightning. Sam pressed into the kiss once more, tongue slipping forward to map along the inside of Dean’s mouth as his hips continued to pick up speed.

Sweat built on their skin, slicking them, and every breath Sam pulled in was full of their scent, a mind numbing combination of them both. Sam could feel his release building, his breath coming harder and faster, and his lips slid along Dean’s jaw again, panting into his neck as his hips thrust hard forward again. “Dean,” he gasped, half a moan, and clenched his eyes closed.

Dean's mind had long since shut down; he was just living for the way Sam was holding him, fucking into him. He couldn't feel anything and he felt everything. Sam's hands were rough and his palms rasped along Dean's back; when Dean's lips could reach Sam's he kissed him _hard_. He poured all the longing into the kiss, every little amazing burst of energy, all the feeling that was clawing its way through the darkness inside of him. Moaning, Dean felt everything start to well up inside him. His muscles clenched tight around his lover’s cock and he cried out. He came hard, hot come spreading across his belly between them.

The moment Dean came, when Sam could feel the shudder of his body he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer. Everything in him flared with the burst of his release, surprisingly intense considering the way this was between them, intense in a completely different way. His hips rolled hard down into Dean, his mouth parting in a gasp.

When the last of his orgasm had pulsed through him, Sam collapsed on top of Dean, though really he barely moved at all. His heart was racing hard in his chest and Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to catch his breath again. “Jesus,” he whispered against Dean’s shoulder, sliding his hand up along Dean’s back and through his hair.

Sucking in air in great gulps, Dean didn't loosen his grip on Sam's neck. There was something different about this, slow and gentle, the intensity of it had left Dean boneless and weak. His legs were trembling, muscles twitching as his body tried to recover from his pleasure. "Sam," he whispered. There were things he wanted to say, words he somehow couldn't get past the lump in his throat.

“It’s alright.” Sam murmured, nuzzling softly along Dean’s jaw. “I got you.” He pressed his lips in a soft kiss against Dean’s skin, slowly up until his mouth ran along Dean’s. “Amazing yeah?” He whispered into the kiss, nose brushing against the demon’s. Sam felt giddy almost, like this moment between them sent a spark straight to his heart.

"Amazing," Dean mumbled. Their lips slid together, slick and hot for a while, until Dean finally felt he could loosen his hold on Sam. Sinking weakly into the soft quilt beneath them, Dean groaned and let his arms collapse beside them. "Fuck," he whispered.

“Did I kill you?” Sam pulled free of Dean and slowly slid to the side, letting his arm continue to rest across Dean’s middle. “I mean, I suppose I couldn’t literally suffocate you, huh? That’s helpful.” Sam chuckled softly, shifting close to Dean’s side and pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Frowning slightly at the loss of Sam's weight, Dean turned toward Sam. "Sometimes, I feel like I'll just. Like-" He rolled slightly and caught Sam's bottom lip between his and sucked gently. _So_ perfect.

“Dean,” Sam moaned softly and pulled Dean flush against him, rolling over him again and to the other side of the bed to grab his shirt off the ground. “That’s not normal you know. What we just- it’s- most people don’t feel like that.” He shrugged and wiped along Dean’s chest, cleaning him off in slow sweeps before hastily wiping off his chest. “I just mean, you know, it’s a big deal, good thing. Whatever.” Sam laughed weakly, not even sure he knew what he was trying to say.

A strange heat was creeping up Dean's neck and he rubbed at it and smiled crookedly. "Yeah?" He didn't have all that much of a clue when it came to what things should feel like. "I figured maybe that was just... that's how it was. Sam? You know when you asked me about what that demon said. About being with humans?"

“Yeah.” Sam nodded slowly, pulling the blanket over them and slipping his arm around Dean. “What about it?” He remembered not letting Dean finish before and part of him didn’t want to let him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how many others Dean may have had.

Dean shook his head. "Never. I never wanted to be near anyone human before. There's something different about you." Sighing sleepily, Dean threaded his fingers through Sam's. "I mean, I don't know if it matters still...but-" he shrugged.

“It matters.” Sam whispered, lips twitching into a smile as his hand squeezed Dean’s. “Well, this thing, what we just felt... most people don’t-” Sam sighed and shrugged. “There’s fucking and then there’s whatever that just was. And that was pretty... intense.” He laughed quietly, fingers twitching to bring Dean closer to him.

"You're happy," Dean said softly. His fingers curled tighter and he pressed his lips to the corner of Sam's mouth. He wasn't sure he'd ever really seen Sam truly happy before.

“Yeah. I am.” Sam dipped his head down, hiding his smile for a few moments before looking up at Dean. “Are you?”

Dean's smile grew. "You have dimples." Curling two fingers under Sam's chin, he tilted it up so he could see the man's smile. "Real live dimples." It was actually pretty adorable, but Dean thought it wise not to say that out loud. Sighing, he pushed a few strands of Sam's hair back off his forehead.

“Yeah yeah, shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes but the smile was still wide on his lips and he nudged at Dean, hooking an arm around him and slipping his leg between the demon’s. “So, tell me. Are you happy?” His palm flattened out on the small of Dean’s back, rubbing in slow circles along the skin.

“You make me happy.” Dean tilted his head slightly and smiled. “Even when you’re pissed off at the world.” The phrase _over his head_ kept echoing through Dean’s mind. Not only was he feeling things he shouldn’t be feeling, he was admitting them... he was watching the happiness spread across Sam’s face and seeing him relax finally.

“Good.” Sam kissed Dean one more time before curling into him, holding Dean as close as he could. “Let’s sleep. Then we can wake up, shower, and go get pizza and beer. Sound like a good plan?” He smiled even with his eyes closed and Sam loved the idea of never stopping smiling. It had been ages since he could recall feeling like this, if ever.

“I like beer and pizza.” Dean stared up at the ceiling, studying the speckles of plaster and sighed softly. Making Sam happy should be a great feeling; it should make him feel like he conquered the world. Instead, it was making him feel a little bit wrong. A little tainted. A little bit like a lying demon.

“I know you do. Night Dean.” Sam murmured, sighing softly as he let his muscles relax. He was already certain this was going to be the best sleep he’d ever had.

-=-=-=-

The bag likely would have gone unnoticed if Sam hadn’t come out of the bathroom and seen Dean pushing up from kneeling beside the bedside. Dean had said he was simply looking for a lost shirt as they packed up, but Sam could see the object in his hand beneath the shirt. His brows drew together in confusion, but he let it go, for the moment.

Three days later they were in another town, supposedly with a high demon population and Sam waited for his time. He couldn’t help being curious, he had to know, he had to play it safe. And so when Dean was in the shower, Sam did a thorough search of the room. The bag was in the same place it had been in the other room, tucked under the bed, pressed in far enough you had to be searching for it to find it.

Sam pulled it out slowly, pushing up to his feet and carrying the bag to the table. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dean, at this point and with all they’d gone through, trusting him was surprisingly easy. But this bag, pieces of cloth drawn together and bound with leather, had nervous trepidation crawling through him. He untied it slowly, his eyes widening as the contents of the bag were exposed.

Herbs, bones, talisman, some other things Sam couldn’t begin to name. His throat felt dry and he looked toward the bathroom door, shoulders tensing. There had to be a logical explanation, it was something important, it... there was no way Dean was doing something to fuck with Sam like this. He didn’t want to believe it.

There wasn’t enough time to properly research the subject, Sam was still holding the open cloth in his hand and he could hear the shower turning off. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, inhaling slowly to calm himself. It always had to be this way, another bump in their road, another thing to have Sam’s defenses flying again. He wished it was easier.

Before Dean could even finish the half word he started as he opened the bathroom door, Sam turned to him, holding up the bag. “Something I should know?” He asked in a quiet calm, but he had a feeling Dean knew the tone. It was pretty clear _don’t fuck this answer up_.

Closing his mouth, Dean wrapped the towel tighter around his hips and walked over to the bag Sam had bought him. It was a small duffel bag and now it was full of clothes and a few books - things that he had acquired living with Sam. “Where’d you find it?”

Rooting in the bag for some boxers, Dean tried not to think about the look of distrust on Sam’s face.

“Under the bed. I saw you getting it out back in Tallahassee. C’mon, Dean, I do this for a living, for my whole life, you think I wouldn’t notice at some point?” Sam frowned and set the pieces of cloth on the table, pointing at it. “There are small bones in there Dean. I might not know my shit, but that doesn’t bode well.”

“It’s a hex bag, okay? It’s for protection.” Yanking the towel off, Dean threw it over his shoulder and pulled some black jersey knit boxers on. “Are these mine?” He twisted around and looked at his ass.

Sam stared at him for a moment then shook his head. “No. Those are mine. What’s a hex bag? I’ve heard that before.” Sam frowned slightly, poking at the contents of the bag with his pinkie. His eyes drifted back to Dean, the sight a little too distracting.

"It's just a bag - I put a few of them. Well, I keep one in here - it keeps you hidden from demons and stuff. Can I keep these?" Dean ran his hand over his ass. He liked the feel of the soft cotton rather than the stiffer cotton boxers he had.

“I’ve had those since I was like, sixteen.” Sam laughed softly and stepped away from the table, looking down then back at Dean. “Yeah, you can keep them. Sorry.” He muttered and shrugged. “You pissed?”

“Pissed? What would I be pissed about? You thinking I’m planning something evil or the fact that you never really trust me one hundred per cent?” Dean pulled a t-shirt down over his head and walked over to throw himself down on the bed. Turning his head so he could see Sam, he watched the hunter’s face tense slightly. “Before I was watching you all the time - and if I had to be somewhere I needed to be able to find you. Now. I always know where you are - so I can block you...hide you from other demons.”

“I appreciate it.” Sam nodded and scratched his arm across his chest, frowning down at the ground. “Do you really blame me though? I do trust you, Dean, I have to, I put my life in your hands all the time. I’m also; I know how to be on my guard. I have to be. It’s not you; I’d be that way with anyone who was doing things under my nose.”

"Should I be telling you everything that I do?" Dean propped his chin up on his hands and stared at Sam. He had started using the hex bags as soon as he’s begun staying at the motels with Sam. The last thing he needed at this stage of their relationship was another demon stumbling across _Sam Winchester_.

“Everything? Some things. The big things?” Sam frowned over at him and shrugged. “You trust me? One hundred percent, all the time? You don’t ever worry that one of these days I’ll just...” Sam trailed off, not sure what to say to fill in the space there. Dean had to trust him, at least somewhat, because he put his life at risk all the time when Sam drank the blood or grabbed any knife that could be Dean’s knife meant to kill demons.

"Sleep beside you don't I? Where do I leave my knife, Sam?" Dean tilted his chin up at the table. "You've seen what it can do to demons. What are you worried you'll do one day, Sammy? Sounds like you might be the one with issues. Gonna leave me one day aren't ya. Just run away or kill me or somethin'. Always a hunter." Dean smiled like he was joking. The problem was he wasn't _that_ secure.

“Jesus.” Sam whispered, stepping back from Dean, but keeping his eyes trained on the demon. “You know... god, Dean, you know that I take just as many risks with you. I-” Sam ran a hand up through his hair, turning away from Dean and dropping his arm back to his side. “I fucking love you, Dean, I’m sorry if it’s not always the easiest thing for-” The words cut off sharply on Sam’s inhale, his gaze snapping to Dean as he realized what he’d just said. _God_.

Dean blinked then a frown flickered across his face. Not that, not now - _not_... Dean's mind felt like it was completely overloaded. Lowering his hands slowly to the mattress, he pushed up and sat there for a few moments staring at Sam before reaching down for his jeans. Slipping them on, he stood and hopped slightly as he pulled them up. "You wanna go and get some dinner or a beer or something?"

It wasn’t like Sam had been expecting to hear it back, why would he? Dean was a demon, he probably didn’t even feel things like that, maybe he even couldn’t. Didn’t make it hurt much less. Swallowing thickly, Sam turned away to hide his disappointment. Of course, the _only_ time he’d ever said that to anyone and it was to a demon who probably thought he was an idiot now. “I’m just gonna do some research, see if there’s a hunt in the area.” Sam turned to the table, pulling up the cloths to tie back together. “I didn’t break this did I? Still works now?”

Dean had been with Sam long enough to know that _look_. He watched Sam all the time. The hunter's normally steady hands were shaking slightly as he tried to put the hex bag back together, his cheeks were a little pale and the muscle in his jaw was twitching.

Sighing, Dean padded over to stand behind Sam and hesitated only a moment before sliding his hands around the man's waist. Lying his cheek against Sam's shoulder blade, he squeezed him gently. "Sam, I've fucked up again, right?"

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam said softly and laid his hands over Dean’s, squeezing softly. “Just never uh, never said that to anyone.” Sam shrugged and stepped out of Dean’s arms, turning to him and forcing a smile on his lips. “I don’t- I understand that you can’t-” Sam touched Dean’s cheek softly and wet his lips, dropping his hand after a moment. “Let’s go get a beer. Research can wait.”

"Not can't," Dean said. His fingers hooked through Sam's belt loops so he couldn't move. "Won't." Teeth clenched so hard it made his jaw ache, he tried to keep his eyes downcast. There were some times he just couldn’t bear to see Sam’s eyes - they just showed Dean everything.

“Won’t.” Sam repeated, staring down at Dean even though the demon wouldn’t look up. “What? Won’t love me?” A slightly harsh laugh fell from Sam’s lips and he pushed at Dean, needing space because he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Okay let’s just- can we pretend I didn’t say it? I get- it’s stupid. I won’t mention it again. Let’s just go get a beer or do something.” Sam turned away from Dean, rubbing hard at his eyes for a moment.

Tilting his head slightly, Dean finally looked up and smiled sadly. Sam was upset, his muscles were all straining in his back and he was fidgeting, rubbing at his eyes, shifting his weight. "Won't say it," he whispered.

His fingers moved over the rough leather of his jacket for a few moments then he pulled it off the back of the chair and swung it over his shoulders. Standing there behind Sam, he wasn't entirely sure what he should do. "There's a bar just down the street. Probably got food."

“I think you should just go on without me. I need- I just,” Sam sighed and shook his head. He didn’t know what it meant, what he should take from it and he didn’t want to ask and get dragged through more of this. “I’ll meet you there in a few.” He waved toward Dean, turning to snag the bag from the table and carry it back over to the bed, crouching down to put it back in place. Normal things, distract himself.

Staring at the door for a few moments, Dean finally turned and walked back over to crouch down beside Sam. Curling his hand over Sam's shoulder, he squeezed gently. "I can stay and help you, we could order pizza and I'll rub ya down later."

“Dean?” Sam pushed up to his feet, catching Dean’s arm and dragging him up with him. “It’s fine okay? Don’t worry about.” Sam shrugged, carding his hand up through his hair. “It was just a slip up, I won’t mention it again. So let’s just put it behind us, okay?” His heart was still clenching in his chest, but he could deal with this kind of thing, it would ease off. It wasn’t like Sam wasn’t used to this.

"I can worry about you. Listen, Sam. Things are weird for you right now. I mean, this isn't normal. You're under all this pressure to clean up a shitload of mess made by everyone else. I'm here all the time leanin' on you to learn. And your body is probably changing - well, getting used to the blood, the power. Gotta be enough to mix up anyone." Dean's hand slid up into Sam's hair and he dropped down onto his knees so he could lean forward to press his lips to Sam's cheek.

“Don’t.” Sam turned away from him, sliding up to the bed. “You don’t have to say it, ever, and I’ll respect that. But you don’t get to dismiss how I feel too- just. Don’t. Alright? I’ve never gotten to feel like this; don’t take it away from me.” Sam stared hard at Dean for a moment before sighing and looking away. “Please, if you don’t want to address it or don’t want to- Dean, seriously.” Sam laughed weakly and pressed his palm into his forehead.

"You know what I am. Don't act surprised, Sam." Dean pointed his thumb at his own chest. "Unclean spirit, nothing human left, some even say forged in Hell. You don't fall in love and live happily ever after with a demon, Sam. Especially not if you're a hunter. You know that."

“I’m not going to live happily ever after with anyone, Dean, I accepted that a long time ago. I can fall in love with whoever the hell I want and if you don’t want me to feel that way then that’s fine. You can forget I said anything.” Sam had pictured a moment like this before, finally falling for someone and saying it for the first time. It never went like this, of course. Sam hadn’t planned on his chest aching so much afterward.

“Forget?” Dean raised his eyebrows and sat back a little. _Forget_ that Sam, his _Sammy_ had feelings for him that he couldn’t even understand completely. Feelings that he didn’t deserve, that should go to someone else. “Forget,” he echoed. “That’s just great, Sam.”

Sam stared at Dean until he couldn’t see him through the blur of tears in his eyes. He looked away, annoyed with himself for getting so worked up. “What would you prefer I say? Alright, Dean, I’m just overwhelmed with everything. I’m just latching on to you emotionally because I’ve spent ninety percent of my life alone and now I finally have someone. Clearly I couldn’t possibly have real feelings for you because you’re a demon even though _I’m_ human and completely capable of loving whoever I want.” Forcing his tear burned eyes back up at Dean, Sam shrugged. “That make it better?”

“Well, that’s closer to reality. This is stupid, it’s a stupid conversation and feelings - all this shit...it’s stupid.” Dean pushed up and walked over to the table then kicked a chair out of the way. Leaning his knuckles on the table, he stared out the window then sighed and sank down onto the nearest chair.

“Stupid.” Sam repeated quietly and nodded. That was enough of an answer he supposed. Sam stared at his hands for a long while, feeling like an idiot for having said anything at all. “I’d like you to go away for awhile.” He finally whispered, pushing off the bed and walking around to his duffel bag, just for something to keep his hands busy, hide the tremor in them.

"What?" Dean turned around on the chair, one arm dangling over the back. _Here it was._ Dean had been waiting for something like this. Things had been going entirely too well, almost like he was playing house or something. Living a life he'd never been meant to have was certainly gonna bite him in the ass now.

“If you want me to get over my stupid feelings, I need some time with you not around.” Sam said flatly, keeping his back to Dean. He could feel the burn of tears on his cheeks and it felt like it was taking all of him to not fall apart right there. More than anything he felt foolish, he should have known better, how could he let himself believe that someone would love him back? Dean, he’d _always_ known what Dean was.

"No. I - no. Sam, you need me here to protect you. You have more training to do." There were a few other things that Dean wanted to scream out but he just swallowed it all down until he could taste bile rising in his throat. His eyes widened slightly and he felt the unfamiliar cool fingers of panic skimming the back of his neck.

“Fine. Just for the night then.” Sam shrugged, rolling his shoulders back to each the tenseness. “I just need ti-” The word caught in Sam’s mouth around a half swallowed cry and he rubbed along the back of his neck. “Just need the night then.” He whispered, curling his fingers into fists.

“Come on, Sam. You always say, we’re better together.” Dean’s lips twitched into a nervous smile as he stood and walked over to where Sam was standing. Leaning forward slightly, he pressed up against the man’s back and sighed. “Can’t we just start the night over?”

“No. I need to deal with my stupid emotions first.” Sam muttered and stepped away from Dean again. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to see how upset he was. He crossed the room to a shirt on the floor, bringing it up and pretending to check if it was clean, wiping his nose instead.

“Sam, don’t do this. Can’t we just-” Dean dragged a hand down his forehead and rubbed roughly. “Fuck, okay. Enough. We’re going out.” Striding over to Sam, he grabbed the hunter’s forearm and spun him around.

Dean wasn’t prepared for the look on Sam’s face; the tears, the pain that was so clearly etched into his features. “Sam...”

“Just leave me alone.” Sam knocked Dean away and dropped heavily down on the bed, burying his head into his palms. “I’m safe here aren’t I? No one will find me. I won’t leave the room, your job will still be waiting for you when you get back. Give me a night to get over it.” Sam curled slightly into himself, hoping it would keep his body from shaking. He could feel shame crawling up through him, knowing Dean probably thought of him as an even bigger idiot. “If you care, at all, in the slightest Dean, please.”

"I don't wanna go," Dean said quietly. A tear was half way down his cheek when he realized it was there. Lifting his hand, he wiped at it unconsciously. Being the one who made Sam look like this, _hurt_ like this, felt horrible. Dean's stomach was hurting and it felt like there were fists crushing his spine.

Turning slowly, he headed toward the door. When he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out and he had to clear his throat. "See ya around, Sammy." Pulling the door open, Dean slipped outside. Standing in the parking lot, he looked around for a few moments, taking a few deep breaths and then walked off. He had no idea where he was going and it didn't' really matter.

Maybe if Dean had stayed, if he’d done _something_ to ease the ache in Sam’s chest, he wouldn’t have broken down like he did. But the moment the door clicked closed he found himself collapsing back on the bed. It felt like his entire soul was being ripped from him and Sam couldn’t even figure out _why_.

It was worse knowing this was all his fault. He let himself fall, he let himself bask in the happiness and drink it up like he would always have it. Some part of Sam had even started believing that Dean and he could always have this too, like they could be happy all the time together.

Reaching out, Sam grabbed Dean’s pillow and pulled it to his chest, curling in as much as he could. He’d let himself fall apart now, spend a night hating his life and all the things he could never have. Tomorrow he’d face the world again and try not to think how cold and lonely it would be if Dean didn’t come back. After all, if what he’d needed was a reminder of how the real world worked, this was certainly it.

-=-=-=-

If Dean hadn't been so focused on the pain that was eating away his insides - he might have thought harder about walking away from the motel room. He might have realized that he hadn't taken a hex bag with him and that sooner or later someone was bound to come looking for him. But then, Dean wasn't used to feeling much other than disdain and hatred. There was entirely too much going on in his head for anything to make sense.

Of all places, he was sitting on a park bench when Brady found him.

"Dean. You're a hard demon to find." Brady shifted back on the bench and stretched his legs out.

Dean turned slowly and stared hard at Brady. "Don't need you all up in my shit. I've got enough problems."

"All's not well in Sammy-land?" Brady laughed darkly.

"Don't call him that," Dean said quietly. He scratched at his chest through the shirt; he really needed a shower. There were other motels and Dean could have rented a room if he wasn't feeling like an absolute shit.

"Don't bitch at me, I'm just here to get a report. Find out what's going on." Brady punched Dean in the shoulder.

"He's learning. He can almost do it- we're close. I don't want anyone interfering." Dean turned all the way to face Brady. "You clear? Stay away."

Brady raised an eyebrow. "Can't find ya anyway. Got some hex bag mogo goin' on there, Dean? Not really necessary is it? You'd think you were paranoid or something."

"You know what they say."

"I do?" Brady flicked a ladybug off his thigh and grimaced.

"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean you fuckers aren't going to eat me alive." Dean looked out over the park. It was mildly amusing watching all the people going about their regular routine, playing frisbee, walking their dogs, pushing their children in strollers and here were two demons debating the fate of humanity.

Brady laughed. "I like that, it's cute. I'll tell the boss." His expression darkened and he sat up. "He wants you to finish this. Get Sam ready. And he sent you a message."

Dean was hurtling through darkness and screaming before he realized what was going on.


	2. Chapter 2

Staying at the motel went against all the parts of Sam that were insisting he had to get over Dean and fast. It wasn’t like it was that long ago that he’d been that cold, shut off hunter. It really shouldn’t be too hard to go back to it. But Sam felt everything like slashes to his skin he couldn’t escape, the ever constant nagging reminder that he was alone now and that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Dean.

Sam couldn’t get himself to leave because he knew he couldn’t leave the safety of the hex bags. But if he took them with him, Dean wouldn’t be able to find him. And...Dean had to find him. Just because he’d been gone two days, Sam had to cling to the hope that he would come back. He didn’t know what he would do if Dean didn’t.

Then, the third morning, there was a hard thump on the door. Sam jerked up from the computer he’d been staring pointlessly at and hurried to the door. He stopped there, forcing himself to calm down before he opened the door. He didn’t want Dean to think he was coming back to the same situation as before. If he had to pretend not to love Dean to keep him around then fine, he would.

Only when he opened the door it was to find Dean passed out on the ground in front of him. There were cuts along his body, over his arms and chest. Sam had never really seen anything like it, the way Dean was passed out, his cuts a deep red and oozing. “Jesus,” Sam gasped and stooped down, scooping Dean up and carrying him quickly into the room.

He kicked the door shut behind him and hurried to the bed, gently laying Dean there. The fabric that was once his shirt was all but shreds now, cut open and blood stained. “Dean?” Sam whispered the words, scanning along the body. Around each of the cuts he could see faint white lines, salt. _Fuck_. “Dean, come on, talk to me.” Sam cupped Dean’s jaw, scared to even move to get something to clean the demon off without knowing Dean was still in there.

Sam's voice was about the best thing Dean had ever heard. It took a while for him to convince his eyes that they needed to open and longer for him to actually accomplish it. When he did manage to look up it was to see Sam's hazel eyes all wrinkled with concern. "Sammy," he rasped. "Sorry m'late - got ... side-tracked."

A faint laugh fell from Sam’s lips and he shook his head, more than a little relieved to hear Dean’s voice. “I can see that.” He whispered and dipped down, unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. Even with the cut there, the broken skin puffy and bloody, Sam didn’t care. And it wasn’t at all about the blood here, it was sheer relief to have Dean with him and if Sam could only have this one moment then he’d take it. “What happened?” He asked quietly, sitting up and reaching out for his knife so he could begin to cut along Dean’s ripped shirt.

"Run over by a truck," Dean muttered. He tried to shift a little closer to Sam, _wanted_ to touch him, but everything ached so badly he just gave up before he even started. "You okay?" His fingers stretched out to brush Sam's wrist. "Was worried."

“Bullshit you were run over by a truck.” Sam shook his head roughly, pulling at Dean’s shirt gently and easing the material off. “There’s salt in these wounds, Dean, so unless you want me to believe Morton’s Salt truck hit you, I’d try again.” Sam pushed off the bed, heading for the bathroom to fill the ice bucket with water and bring over a clean rag.

Sitting beside Dean on the bed once more, Sam gently brushed a hand through his hair and sighed. “Gonna tell me the truth?”

"That shit Brady found me. He-" Dean winced slightly as he breathed too deeply. "He took me to Alastair. Remember I told you about him? Wasn't being a good demon. S'okay though, Sam. All okay." His fingers walked up Sam's thigh and his palm rested there against the soft denim of the man's jeans. Sam was okay.

“It’s not okay.” Sam whispered and shook his head. This was his fault, if he hadn’t pushed Dean away so hard this wouldn’t have happened. He should have just sucked it up, gotten over it, then Dean wouldn’t have been hurt like this. “I’m going to patch you up.” Sam murmured, and began slowly sweeping along the larger cuts, trying to pull up the salt. “I’m sorry, Dean, I shouldn’t have sent you away.” He said quietly, trying to keep Dean conscious.

"Yeah you should." Dean's lashes fell to his cheeks again and he hissed when the cloth rasped over one of his cuts. "Was an asshole," he murmured.

Alastair, the bastard, had him strapped to his table for most of the time he was away. Strapped there, staring at the endless darkness above him, Dean would try and cling to Sam. Sam's smile, the way his nose twitched when he was trying not to laugh, the glint of green in his hazel eyes. There was pain, excruciating pain, and he would try to see Sam's face, watch in his mind's eyes as Sam's long fingers slipped through his hair to tuck it behind his ear.

“I made it back,” Dean said softly. It was almost a confirmation for him more than Sam.

“Yeah you did.” Sam murmured and continued to work along Dean’s cuts, judging which ones might need stitches, too deep for Dean to risk keeping open. It was easier to focus on that than trying to picture what Dean might have been put through over the last couple of days. “It’ll be different now,” he continued, wincing as he had to dig in deeper to a cut to pull salt free. “I won’t send you away like that again. It won’t come to that.” He just had to focus on getting Dean better, that was all that mattered now.

"It's okay, Sammy. Didn't tell 'em," Dean mumbled. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years now he was with Sam. Fingers tightening on Sam's thigh, Dean sighed and tried to swallow. His throat was raw _from screaming_. Wincing at the memory, Dean rolled his head away from Sam.

“I know you didn’t.” Sam nodded, heart clenching tightly as he looked at Dean’s face. “I know you wouldn’t. Let me get you some pain medicine, then you can sleep, I’ll put you back together.” Sam hummed softly, trying his hardest to sound as cool and confident as he could. He wanted to hold Dean up now, support him, make him better.

“Don’t go anywhere, Sammy.” Dean smiled weakly and turned his gaze back to Sam. “Hate trying to sleep away from you.” Smiling wider, Dean closed his eyes again. Sleeping wasn’t all that hard after all.

For a while Sam watched Dean sleep, hands still moving in gentle sweeps over his cuts. It came almost automatic, years of patching up his father finally coming into play once more. He was sure Dean would be able to heal eventually, given enough time, but Sam was going to do what he could until then.

He stitched up the bigger and deeper cuts on Dean’s chest, wincing at each pull of skin even if Dean was completely passed out. As he traveled along Dean’s arms, checking each cut over his skin, a burned mark on Dean’s wrist caught his attention. Sam had never seen it before, the skin was still red and puffy and something sank in his gut. Anything Alastair could have burned onto him couldn’t be that good.

It took him more than an hour to feel satisfied with his wound care on Dean. Somehow the demon managed to sleep the whole time; Sam tried not to think about the place he’d been that could make him feel so exhausted. He pulled Dean’s jeans off next, tossing them toward the trash before gently pulling the blanket over Dean.

Even though it was the middle of the morning Sam felt exhausted, not even realizing how much sleep he’d missed over the last two nights wondering if Dean would turn up. First though, he had to look up the mark, too curious to resist. If Alastair had tarnished him somehow, done something that would come back to hurt him, Sam needed to find out and fix it. As long as he was still part of the picture, he wasn’t going to let any more harm come to Dean.

Two hours later Sam finally found the mark, his eyes slightly blurring as he read over the information. _Binding link._ Sam’s jaw dropped slightly as he continued to read, his heart picking up speed. Alastair had bound Dean to this body, likely to keep Dean from leaving and escaping the torture he had in mind. But it was more than that, it was like, Dean and the body he was in were one now. There wouldn’t be a way to just escape unless he broke the mark and Sam couldn’t imagine him doing that.

His mind was still spinning when he finally stripped down to his boxers and slid under the blankets beside Dean. He had a thousand questions, he was pretty sure there wasn’t going to be any sleep for him. But the minute he had Dean up against his chest the heat seeped through him. Dean still smelled like himself, he still had the same heat and his presence was still just as soothing. Sam held him as loose as he could, resisting the urge to clench him tightly, and let his mind drift off into a restless sleep.

-=-=-=-

If the first thing Dean noticed was the sting and ache of his body, the very next thing he noticed was that Sam was _holding_ him. He was cradled gently against the man's body and Sam's arm was almost holding him up. Smiling, Dean shifted slightly and groaned quietly. With each breath he drew in he got that _Sam_ smell he had missed so much.

Sliding his palm up Sam's chest, he traced the protection tattoo. He'd made it back to Sam and he hadn't let their location out. Maybe Alastair hadn't really put his _all_ into it. After all, this _treatment_ was more of a warning than anything. It was a knock back into line. The thing about being at the bottom of the barrel was that no one ever wanted you to forget that's where you were.

Pressing his lips together, Dean turned his cheek slightly on Sam’s arm and watched the man’s chest rise and fall. All the life rushing in and out of him. “Love you. Sam,” Dean whispered. “I love you.”

Closing his eyes again he nestled closer, fingers still stroking Sam’s warm skin. It was worth the pain cause by moving to get a little closer to the heat of Sam’s body.

Something was moving against him and Sam shifted slightly, his lips twitching into a smile before his eyes could even open. “How you feelin’?” He mumbled, voice deep and rough with sleep. He still didn’t want to open his eyes though, in case Dean was just moving and wasn’t actually awake. No reason to be awake if Dean wasn’t.

“Still like I got run over by a truck.” Dean laughed softly and flattened his hand against the hunter’s chest. “You? Sleep good?” Leaning back slightly, trying to give Sam some room, Dean groaned again.

Finally giving in, Sam blinked his eyes open and looked at Dean, drawing him in close again. “Better than I had before.” He smiled softly, insisting to himself that he could be sentimental for a little while. “Dean, there’s a mark on your wrist.” Sam released the demon from his embrace, reminding himself that it _wasn’t_ okay, not even for awhile. “I looked it up. It’s a binding link. Do you know what that is?”

"Have I told you how much I hate Alastair?" Dean rolled carefully onto his back and breathed deeply while his body buzzed with pain. Lifting his hand he looked at the inflamed skin of the brand. "Don't worry 'bout it, s'just somethin' he uses to make his job easier." Dean knew exactly what it was and what it meant. While that mark was whole on his wrist he was bound to the body he was in.

“It’s- I mean, it’s not all bad, right?” Sam asked quietly, reaching out for Dean then dropping his hand on the bed between them. “You like this body right? So... there’s that. And, you might, it’ll be a little more...” Sam trailed off and shrugged, rolling over onto his back as well and looking up at the ceiling. “I stitched up the deep ones, should heal up okay.”

“You like this body?” Dean turned his head slowly and looked into Sam’s eyes. “I mean, you think - you like touching it.” _Me,_ he wanted to say. He wanted it to _be_ him that Sam wanted - not some body - but that was just the way things were. “Guess...it’s kind of me now. For a while at least.”

“A while?” Sam asked quietly, meeting Dean’s gaze then shaking his head. “It’s not really about the body you know Dean. It’s you. I mean, I know it’s hard to think that way, you don’t believe it and I _promised_ myself we weren’t going to do this again, but... Dean, you’re the one who, you’re the reason I feel like I do okay? If some other demon where to take on that body, I wouldn’t want him.” Sam sighed and rolled toward Dean, gently touching his side. “Want some water or something?”

Dean’s throat _was_ dry. “Can I ... could you kiss me first?” He had thought about Sam’s lips so much - and he was sure he could half remember Sam kissing him earlier, but it seemed a million years ago. There were so many things Dean had said that he shouldn’t have said. “I’m sorry. For before. I said shitty things ‘cause I was confused and - I mean, it’s not like I’m some great prize.” He shrugged and regretted it instantly because it hurt.

Sam felt like his heart was racing against his chest and he was almost surprised they couldn’t hear it. It wasn’t like Dean was saying what Sam _wanted_ to hear, but it was close. “It’s okay.” Sam whispered and shifted forward, slanting his mouth over Dean’s and gently kissing him. His fingers slid along Dean’s jaw, gently stroking his skin. He couldn’t believe how much he’d _missed_ Dean in such a short time. “Next time I tell you to leave, tell me no okay? Don’t do it.” Sam laughed weakly, pressing his lips back to Dean’s once more.

“I said I didn’t want to go,” Dean whispered. Sam’s lips were so close he could feel the heat of them and his brow furrowed as he strained forward slightly to press a gentle kiss to the hunter’s mouth. “You’re kind of bossy.”

“I was hurt Dean.” Sam murmured and pushed up, staring down at him. “First time I told anyone I loved them and you basically said I couldn’t. Didn’t want you to see me acting like a girl.” Sam smiled wryly and gently kissed Dean once more. “Not like you couldn’t overpower me if you tried.”

“Sam.” Dean smiled and lifted his arm wearily so he could cup the man’s cheek. “You are very special. And I - I want to try and be more for you. Try and learn. Try and _remember_ what I was like before. I mean, I lived - I did all this... I can...” he gave up. He felt a bit like he was drowning in all the thoughts and feelings that were ripping through his body.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Sam slid to the side so he wasn’t putting any pressure on Dean’s wounds and gently ran a hand through the demon’s hair. “We don’t have to rush through all this now. It’ll come with time, everything you need to say. I can wait.” Leaning forward once more, his lips brushed Dean’s again, murmuring against Dean’s mouth. “For the record though, I already find you special.”

“I can handle that,” Dean said. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath. “Water?” Smiling crookedly he pushed up onto his elbows and shuddered slightly at the stinging and pulling across his chest.

“Don’t push yourself, Dean,” Sam warned and smirked over at him before rolling off the bed and heading to the fridge. He snagged a bottle of water and twisted the cap off, bringing it back to Dean with a lingering smile. “I’m only gonna play your man nurse for so long so don’t fuck yourself up too much more.”

“Kinda like that idea,” Dean muttered. Dropping back down to the bed, he rolled slightly and took the water so he could gulp down about half the bottle. Gasping he looked up at Sam and wiped his chin. “Thanks for letting me be... back here.”

“There wasn’t ever a question there you know,” Sam pointed out, soft smile on his lips as he gently passed his finger over Dean’s jaw. “Why do you think I’m still here? Two days, I couldn’t leave because you wouldn’t know.” He sat along the edge of the bed, gently touching Dean’s chest, scanning over the cuts just in case.

“Yeah?” Something softened deep inside Dean’s mind. He hadn’t really thought about that and yet, on instinct he had come straight back to the motel.

“Yeah.” Sam laughed softly and slid his thumb over Dean’s wrist, feeling the rise of skin from the mark there. “Can I do anything to help? Get you some pizza or something? Will medicine help at all?” Without thinking about it Sam brought Dean’s hand up, pressing a soft kiss to the mark.

“Beer?” Dean grinned and lifted his wrist again for Sam to kiss. It sent little sparks skittering up his arms and he liked it.

“No matter what you seem to think, Dean, beer does not solve all life’s ails.” Sam laughed and gently kissed his way up Dean’s arm, over each little cut. “I suppose I can indulge you for now.” He shifted forward on the bed, slipping up onto his knees and continuing to kiss up his arm.

“This is indulging me?” Dean’s smile softened. “Seems like you like it.” He winced slightly as Sam’s lips smoothed over one of the wounds. “Did a good job on me, didn’t he? Is it as nasty to look at as it feels?”

“Makes me want to strengthen my powers.” Sam said softly, pulling up to look down at Dean. “So I can get rid of him. That’s what I want to do, kill Alastair. Think it’s possible?” He leaned forward, gently kissing Dean across the lips. “Doesn’t make me care less for you.”

“You can’t.” Dean reached up and grabbed Sam’s shirt. “You _don’t_ look for him or anyone like him, you hear me?” His grip was so tight that his knuckles whitened.

The very thought of Sam anywhere near Alistair sent little cold sparks of fear down Dean’s spine. “Please, I mean,” he softened his voice. “Don’t, Sammy. Promise me.”

“He’d kill you if he could.” Sam frowned down at him, gently touching Dean’s jaw. “Would we ever be safe? In, just, just some crazy idea- if I do what you’re trying to teach me to do, stop Lucifer from rising and everything. After that, would we ever be safe? Could you stay with me without Alistair finding you?” His fingers slid down Dean’s neck, grazing across his collar bone. It was likely a ridiculous line of thought, but he had to know.

“I don’t know, Sam. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t promise. I need that. That one thing, can you promise me? No risks - not for me.” Dean loosened his grip and smoothed Sam’s shirt down.

“Can you promise to stay with me?” Sam sat up slowly, looking down at Dean and smiling wryly. “I’ll promise not to look for him if you can really promise you’re going to stay when this is all over.”

Dean got kind of a hollow feeling in his chest. “That’s not fair.”

Looking away, Sam nodded and pushed off the bed, heading for the mini-fridge. “I won’t go looking for Alistair, but if he makes an appearance with me around I can’t promise I won’t try and hurt him.” Grabbing a beer from the fridge, Sam twisted off the top and headed back to Dean’s side, offering the beer. “I promise not to go looking for him.”

Dean’s fingers curled over Sam’s for a moment as he took the beer. The cool glass felt good against his skin and he pressed it to his cheek. “You thought about settling down before? Buyin’ a house or something?” They didn’t talk about normal things, well, the things that Dean assumed were normal for most people.

“Oh yeah because I’m clearly the domestic type.” Sam muttered and turned away, crossing the room to snag a clean t-shirt. “I should get us some food. You should eat and I’m starving. Gonna pick up some clean bandages too. Gotta get you back on your feet.” Sam tugged the shirt on and swallowed thickly, he felt off kilter, like he always did actually, and dismissed it to the part of his brain that kept getting sidetracked in fantasy.

“I want to know you more, better. And I don’t know how to do that. Asking questions is all I’ve got. Don’t even know what you like beyond beer and pizza really, bad movies. Well, I think they’re bad movies. Me... you seem to like me. You ever had a cat? I don’t like them much.” Dean was babbling, he knew it, but for some reason he didn't want Sam to leave the room.

Slowly looking over at Dean, Sam’s head tilted to the side and he studied him. Dean was confusing, sometimes he said things, acted a certain way and Sam didn’t know what to make of him. “Would it be better if I ordered food?” He asked quietly and walked over to Dean’s side, slowly sitting beside him. “I’ve never had any pet, won a goldfish once at a fair, but it died.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s fingers slipped over Sam’s wrist and he held on. “I think I’d like that. If you stayed here, I mean. With me.” Swallowing he looked up at Sam’s face and smiled weakly. “Sam... it was...” Licking his lips, Dean blew out a breath.

Running his hand along Dean’s neck, Sam slowly shifted him up, too tender he thought, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. “Tell me. What was it?” He frowned slightly at Dean, shifting him up until he could hold him against his chest.

“I was scared. I’ve never been scared before. It was like I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I didn’t come back to you - and they found you. Or, what if I wasn’t strong enough to keep quiet. You were right there - in my mind the whole time. That’s how I did it. Thought about you and the way you fidget when you’re pissed at me, the way you say my name sometimes in your sleep, things like that.” Dean took a shaky breath and leaned against Sam heavily.

“Jesus.” Sam whispered and pressed his nose into Dean’s hair, breathing in his scent. “It’s my fault. They wouldn’t have done this to you if I wasn’t part of the picture. Or at least if I hadn’t been stupid and sent you away.” Sam sighed and pulled him closer, closing his eyes and keeping Dean there. “You ever think of having a home? Settling down somewhere and ignoring what you are?”

“Ignoring what I am? That’s pretty much not possible is it.” It wasn’t a question really, Dean knew the answer. “There will always be someone looking for me if I’m gone. Besides, do I look like the domestic type to you?” Dean forced a smile and pulled back slightly. “Sam, it wasn’t your fault,” he said softly after a few moments.

“Okay.” Sam nodded and dropped his hands back at his sides. “Just gonna order some food then.” Sam pushed off the bed to grab his phone. He’d been so eager not to miss Dean if he came back to the motel the phone book was already open to the food delivery section. He ordered a large pizza for them to share and dropped the phone a few minutes after, heading for the bathroom. “Gonna rewrap some of those cuts,” he called over his shoulder.

Sam kept asking these questions, prodding at Dean, anything to give him some hope for their future. He wasn’t sure why he did, he already knew what the answer was and he was torturing himself pushing things. Coming back into the main room, Sam smiled softly over at Dean, holding up the bandages. “Why don’t you like cats?”

“They don’t like demons. Cats are sensitive to things like that, dogs too, but dogs aren’t as arrogant about it.” Rolling over onto his side, Dean kept an eye on Sam while he moved about the room. “Not like I run into them a lot, but when I do, there’s usually hissing and spitting.”

“Huh. That must be annoying.” Sam pursed his lips and dropped onto the side of the bed, picking at the edge of a bandage on Dean’s chest. “I used to think I wanted a dog, I used to beg and plead my dad for one. But it was better I didn’t have one. Did I mention the goldfish I won died in like, a half hour?” He laughed weakly and gently pulled up the bandage, checking on the deepest of the cuts.

“You take good care of me.” Dean winched and shifted back a little, fidgeting with the bandages Sam had laid on the bed. “You have to fix up your dad a lot?” Oh, he knew the stories about John Winchester. The man was renowned for his recklessness when it came to hunting, but Dean didn’t see the same trait in Sam.

“Yes.” Sam nodded and bit his lip as he tugged the rest of the bandage off, frowning at the puffy stitched cut. “I learned how to wrap a splint when I was six and it was a good one too. Pretty common thing to see him come home broken and bleeding, you just get used to it after awhile.” Sam shrugged and grabbed the bandages from Dean. “You seemed to be pretty good at it too, right? How did you learn?”

“Honestly? I guessed. I’ve seen it on TV - Rambo. You seen that guy? He’s crazy. It’s common sense and I didn’t want you bleeding.” Rolling his bottom lip under his teeth, Dean shrugged a shoulder. “You miss him? Your dad?”

“You saw it on TV?” Sam arched an eyebrow, ignoring the question for now. It was a hard subject to address and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go down that path. “That’s really comforting.” His lips twitched in a small smile and he shook his head, leaning over to get some antibacterial soap to rub over the cut. “These are going to heal up real well.”

“So, is that a _yes, I do miss him, shut up_ kind of brush off?” Dean was pleased. He was starting to _get_ Sam. Or at least, he thought he was. He looked down at his chest and poked at one of the cuts. It hurt.

“Knock it off.” Sam batted Dean’s hand away and rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to damage yourself more?” Finishing up with the biggest cut, Sam moved on to the next, pulling off the bandage with a little more force than necessary. “Of course I miss him, he’s my dad. It’s just not always that cut and dry.”

“What’s complicated about it?” Dean shifted around until he was lying kind of across Sam’s lap. When Sam just looked at him, he grinned. “More comfy. I’m hurt.” He had the decency to blush. When it came to being near Sam, he was always looking for more.

“Right.” Sam nodded and smiled softly before shaking his head. “I always missed my dad. Every day of my life. So you just get used to it. Most of the time I feel like I’m just waiting for him to come back from a hunt. Keep expecting it. I might always.” Sam shrugged and twisted around to put a new bandage on.

Dean’s hand slipped over Sam’s forearm again. He liked feeling the muscles and tendons moving under Sam’s skin as he tended to the wounds. “Why did you miss him... all the time? What do you mean?” Letting himself fall against Sam’s chest, he slid his arm around the hunter’s waist.

Eyes widening for a moment down at Dean, Sam felt the pull of a smirk as he slowly shook his head. “Comfy?” His smile widened slightly when Dean just nodded. “You have to get my life, Dean, it was... my mom died when I was a baby and my dad went on this vendetta against whatever did it. First couple of years he shifted me between people, random babysitters or whatever. But by five I could feed myself and that was all he needed. Packed me up and took me around from motel to motel. By the time I was nine he’d leave me alone for days at a time, sometimes a week, wouldn’t matter. It was always that way.”

Slipping his fingers under Sam’s t-shirt, Dean rubbed small circles on the warm skin. “All because of the - because of how your Mom died.” His heart picked up a little speed and he couldn’t help the swell of guilt. They all knew what had happened to Mary Winchester, like they knew that John was hell bent for leather on his mission to wipe out those responsible. _Too close for comfort_.

“Well, things are different now, right? You got me?” Dean blinked up at Sam and smiled. “I mean, for what it’s worth.”

“You’re a lot different from him.” Sam chuckled softly, dipping his head in a nod. “But obviously I feel different for you than my dad.” Sam snorted and twisted around, falling back on the bed and pulling Dean into his side. “I’ve only got you for right now though. It’ll always be that way, no matter what.” It hurt to think that way, to imagine his entire life could be written out so easily in absence and loneliness. He didn’t want to lose Dean, but he thought he would, probably sooner rather than later.

Frowning, Dean rested his hand on Sam’s chest. “I don’t understand. _What_ will always be that way?” Sometimes, even when Dean was trying so _hard_ to read Sam’s expression it seemed impossible.

“Let’s not go down this path again,” Sam whispered, bringing Dean in so their lips could gently brush together once more. “Can we just lay here until food comes? Talk about things that don’t really matter? We could imagine our never going to happen domestic little life.” Sam smiled sadly and shrugged. “We’d have a nice two story place, big willow tree out front we’d cuddle and read books under. And of course we’d have a movie room, huge TV, mini fridge always stocked with beer and candy.” The smile on Sam’s lips grew a little more and he tapped Dean’s lips, trying to get him to smile in return.

Tilting his head slightly, Dean frowned. “You said you weren’t a cuddler.” Not that it mattered. None of it really mattered. Dean knew that sooner or later, Sam would move on.

“But you are.” Sam dropped his hand, the smile fading on his lips. “Don’t feel like imagining what it might be like? Or are you more of a loft person. We could get a loft at the top of a high rise in New York City. You could be a model, I could... I don’t know, fix computers.” Sam knew it wasn’t doing any good, they always circled back to this no matter what he tried.

"Sam, let's not do this." Dean put a little space between them. He'd always wondered why people talked about their _hearts_ breaking and maybe it was because of the hollow feeling in his chest whenever he knew he was disappointing Sam.

“It was just a, it-” Sam sucked in a breath then sat up, reaching out for the old bandages. “Fine, sorry.” He shrugged and balled the bandages up, tossing them toward the trash can. “Dinner should be here soon.” He picked at his jeans, surprised by the slight shame and embarrassment he felt. An almost breathless laugh fell from him and he shook his head. “My dad used to say something like that, when I did the same thing. Sometimes we’d drive and I’d make up these wild stories about how our lives could be. He didn’t like it much either.”

"Sam, I just don't want to hurt you." Dean had never wanted that; since he had first met Sam he'd known that things had the potential to get really messed up. There were things inside him, things that he didn't understand going on; things - _feelings_ that were because of Sam. "I can't be what you want me to be, Sam. As much as I want that, I can't. There are things that you don't know ... don't understand about all this. Just - can we just be _this_? Us... for now? I know I have no right to ask you this but - can _I_ have that?"

“Sure, Dean.” Sam nodded and looked over at him, watching him for a long moment before smiling. “We’ll just be this. Won’t do the other stuff anymore.” He grasped Dean’s hand and squeezed softly. Part of him knew he didn’t really have any right to ask for more, he should be grateful for any time they had together. “So what’s the plan now? If they were looking for you, does that mean we need to pick up our pace? Work harder?”

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Dean was a little taken aback by how quickly Sam shifted gears. "We should move. Today, as soon as possible and find another demon for you." His throat was burning, it felt tight and raw and Dean slid to the edge of the bed. "I feel. I'm a. Gonna just go to the bathroom." Standing, he swayed for a moment and caught the night table with his finger tips then crossed the room slowly.

“Dean?” Sam stood quickly, reaching out in case Dean needed his help. “I’m just trying to give you what you want. That’s- you wanted to stop talking about the future and I-” Sam sighed and shrugged. “Never mind, need any help? In- I mean, you’re swaying.” He smiled briefly at him then looked away, shrugging.

"I know," Dean said softly. "S'just. I get this. Pain, in my chest and my throat is like it's just slammed shut or something. What _is_ that?" The last words were almost a whisper and he rubbed at his throat.

“Feelings?” Sam stepped a little closer, frowning at Dean. “Life, most likely. Sounds like a feeling I know. It’ll get better.” Sam curled his fingers over Dean’s arm, squeezing softly.

"Wanna know something stupid?" Dean walked forward until he was pressed up against Sam and slid his hands over the man's hips. Tilting his chin slightly, he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Sam's.

“Alright, what’s something stupid?” Sam wasn’t completely certain he wanted to know, but he’d hear anyway. His arms slid around Dean, gently squeezing him against his chest.

"It goes away when I'm here. _Right_ here. That _feeling_ doesn't seem as bad." Turning slightly he brushed his lips over Sam's cheek.

“Well, I don’t think you want me to tell you what that is.” Sam turned into Dean’s lips, pressing into the kiss and bringing one hand up to cup along the back of Dean’s neck. He could spend forever kissing Dean, it always made things easier.

The heat of it was so familiar to Dean now. The way Sam leaned into him; the rough palm against his neck, Dean had felt it enough times now that it was as though they belonged like that. They should be touching, lingering near each other; their lips should be crushed together.

Dean fell into the kiss for a while and let his worries drift away. As his hands moved slowly around to Sam's back, he could feel the tension draining from Sam's body. They were good like this.

“Can’t get into this now,” Sam murmured into the kiss, humming softly even as his hands slipped along Dean’s waistline. “Food coming.” He laughed quietly and pulled back, pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple. “And your body is so worn out. It needs to get better.” Not that Sam didn’t want to, he really did. He’d missed Dean so bad in two short days; he wanted to re-familiarize himself with Dean’s body.

"Sorry," Dean murmured. Stepping back, he moved away slowly, watching Sam for a few moments before finally turning. "I'll be back in a minute."

As soon as he closed the bathroom door behind him, Dean dropped hard to his knees. No one had prepared him for any of this. Maybe nothing could have prepared him. Now, here he was with a hunter he was training for a mission the man only half understood and he never wanted to leave him. And yet. He knew the only logical conclusion was that he would do exactly that. Dean _would_ leave Sam Winchester.

Leaning forward, Dean threw up into the toilet bowl.

“Dean?” Sam frowned and stepped closer to the bathroom door, grabbing the doorknob and turning. He was relieved when it opened under his palm, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open. “What is it? Are you, is it the pain?” Sam wet a rag under the faucet, ringing it out before kneeling beside him and gently wiping along his forehead. “Tell me about it.” He sighed softly, rubbing along Dean’s lower back with his free hand, worry gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

Shaking his head, Dean spat into the toilet bowl and shoved the back of his hand across his mouth. "I'm fine, just t..tired or somethin'." The storm in his stomach seemed to be dying down and he leaned back until he fell on his ass and could rest against the bathtub. The porcelain was cool against his skin.

“Okay.” Sam nodded slowly, curling his fingers around the damp rag, watching Dean uneasily. Everything was off kilter, maybe Dean’s time being tortured with Alistair, maybe their slightly maddening conversations, he couldn’t say. “You want some water or something?”

Dean shook his head again and rubbed at his face. He was barely managing to hold himself together. It was ridiculous behavior, the kind of behavior that was going to get them both killed if he wasn't careful. "Get out, Sam."

“Excuse me?” Sam’s eyes widened as he stared at Dean, his heart clenching. “No. This- come on Dean, knock it off. I’ve put- I’m just trying to look after you, you don’t have to be like this.” Sam frowned, reaching out to grasp Dean’s wrist.

Jerking his wrist away, Dean lifted his arms and held them up in front of him, palms out like he was warding Sam off. "Don't. Please don't touch me right now."

Sam felt the sting of rejection like a slap across his face and his hand dropped, something painful curling deep within him. “Wow. Okay.” He rubbed uncertainly along the back of his neck and scooted back, not accustomed to feeling so many things all at once. Of course, it seemed to be happening more and more with Dean now. “I’ll just leave you alone then. Did something happen between us out there and you coming in here? Because I thought-” Sam frowned, shaking his head as he pushed up to his feet.

Finally letting his hands drop to his knees, Dean dropped his head. "Just leave me alone. Please, Sam..."

“Why?” Sam looked down at him, studying Dean for a long moment before sighing and dipping down. Before Dean could say any more Sam scooped him up off the ground, carrying him out of the bathroom, squeezing a little when Dean twisted. “You’re still injured. I’m not just going to let you sit on some crappy motel bathroom floor. Stop twitching or I’ll drop you.” Sam headed out of the bathroom, giving Dean the sternest look he could manage.

Dean twisted once more then hissed when one of the deeper cuts on his chest burned. The tight feeling was back in his chest again and Dean was panting too fast, he was a little dizzy and the room kind of spun. "Fuck you, Sam."

“Now I think you’re trying to hide something from me.” Sam smiled over at Dean and shook his head, bending down to drop onto the bed, but keeping Dean tight in his arms. “You get defensive when you don’t want to talk about something that you’re avoiding. So tell me what it is.” Sam released Dean, giving him the chance to move from the place practically on his lap. He was getting tired of the way they circled around this conversation and the others, Sam just wanted cold hard facts now.

Hauling his arm back, Dean swung at Sam. The hunter was fast, he always had been and he caught Dean's fist in his. The impact sent a shockwave down Dean's body and it _fucking_ hurt. It hurt everywhere and worst of all was the feeling in the pit of his stomach. Wild-eyed, Dean tried to yank his hand back and couldn't, he'd pretty much used up whatever energy he had left.

Panting, sucking in air that just wouldn't come, Dean stared into Sam's eyes and felt everything inside him starting to break apart. "I don't want to love you anymore," he yelled. Chest heaving, he gasped for air, wheezing as everything pressed in on him. "Sam," he whispered. Pressing his palm against Sam's chest he let out a half-sob and tilted his head back to try and get more air.

“Dean, Dean, _god_ just take a breath.” Sam laid his hands over Dean’s arm, sliding back to his shoulders and rubbing, trying his best to soothe. Part of him was aching so badly it was hard to keep hold of himself, but he had to because this wasn’t about him. Something was completely breaking Dean down and Sam wanted to try and make it better.

“It’s okay,” Sam whispered, running a hand slowly through Dean’s hair and clutching him against his chest. “You’re not breathing.” Sam murmured, burying his nose in Dean’s hair, feeling each of Dean’s shaky inhales. “Talk to me.”

"You'll hate me, you'll. It's all messed up Sam." Dean's fingers curled into Sam's hair and held on probably _far_ too tight but he didn't care. "I love you. I know I said I didn't, or couldn’t ... but I was human, Sam." Heaving in a breath, Dean pressed his face into Sam's neck and shivered. "I know what it feels like and this is bad, it's _so_ bad, Sam." Voice breaking, Dean twisted harder into Sam's body.

“Why is it bad?” Sam felt more than heard Dean’s slight scoff and rolled his eyes, clutching the demon tighter to his chest. “Alright I get the _why_ but, I love you too. You know I do. Who says we can’t figure out a way? Once I stop Lucifer and stuff, why couldn’t you stay? We have the hex bags, we could keep moving, we could have this.” Sam pulled Dean back a few inches, looking down into his eyes. “If you can admit to loving me, then couldn’t we have more?”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean closed his eyes as they welled with tears. If he was going to get this out there was no way he could look into those eyes. "You're not supposed to stop Lucifer from rising."

The words echoed through Sam’s mind for a moment, his shoulders already tensing. “What do you mean?” He could guess, it wouldn’t be that hard to put it together, but it couldn’t be that, Sam couldn’t accept that.

Reaching out, Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “I was sent to train you to kill - to kill the _first_ demon. Lilith. You drink enough, you learn what to do and you can kill her. The thing is-” Dean’s voice caught in his chest and he cleared his throat. This would be the end of it right here - the end of what he had with Sam. “The _thing_ is that killing her, killing Lilith will be the beginning. That’s what will bring him back. You do that. I teach you and you do it.”

Cold, sickening shock ran through Sam and he stared at Dean, waiting for him to take it back, to say it wasn’t true. “You- this is... you’re lying. You’re just saying that because you’re scared and just- you’re good Dean, you’re not like the other ones. I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to try and sabotage us.” Sam shook his head slowly, refusing to believe what Dean was telling him.

"I'm not lying," Dean said softly. Squeezing Sam's hand, Dean finally opened his eyes. "I love you. I'm telling you the truth. This was all a lie from the beginning." There was a part of him that felt the slightest relief at having it out there - but then the cold realization that he'd ruined everything started to settle down on him.

“No.” Sam shook his head again, rougher this time, pulling his hand away from Dean’s as tears pricked at his eyes. “No Dean, this isn’t- you can’t have...” Sam felt sick, betrayed, his blood cooling in his veins. A part of his mind - maybe his father’s always nagging voice - was telling him he should have known better, he shouldn’t have believed that Dean was anything more than a demon. Playing his own games, twisting the rules around.

Sam clambered off the bed, digging hands into his hair as he half paced away then spun back. “Tell me it’s not true. Please Dean; tell me this wasn’t all a lie.” It felt a little like everything he’d come to know, love, and rely on the past few months was being torn from him and Sam wasn’t ready for that.

"You, this -" Dean moved to the edge of the bed and reached out a hand, trying to catch hold of Sam. "Us, we weren't a lie. Never. I ... I just didn't say it because I was trapped. And it's fucked up. I know it. It's really fucked up and I couldn’t figure out how to make it right. The way I feel isn't a lie." He dropped his hand when Sam just stared down at him.

“How the hell am I supposed to believe that?” Sam stepped back, swallowing thickly. “This whole thing, you.” Sam sucked in a quick breath, feeling almost dizzy with the rush of panic. If this whole thing had been a lie, Dean coming here, getting Sam to trust him, getting him to drink demon _blood_ , then the love, how could it possibly be real?

A knock at the door kept Sam from saying anything more. He stared at it for a long moment, forcing himself to grab his wallet and pay for the food. The delivery guy gave him a weird look, but Sam ignored it, bringing the food in and slowly setting it on the table. Everything felt numb, hollow, and just beneath that Sam could feel the pull and call of blood. Jesus, Dean had already gotten him addicted.

“It was all just some fucking game to you, huh?” Sam wanted the words to sound cruel, but he knew they just came out pathetic and quiet. “Am I hell’s running joke? Let’s get the Winchester boy to think he’s saving the world, we’ll fuck him up real good. Oh hey, let’s send Dean because then Sam can fall in love with him and realize he really is so fucked up that he can end up heartbroken because of a _demon_. Jesus, am I really that pathetic?” Sam dropped heavily down onto a chair, staring blankly at the table.

"You were never a joke." Dean fell back against the head board and folded his arms across his chest tightly. "I wasn't supposed to get close to you," Dean whispered. The pain in his chest was worse than ever. "You're not pathetic."

“Yeah because falling for the first demon who gets me to drink his blood so I can apparently free Lucifer from Hell is completely normal behavior.” Sam pushed up from the chair, spinning toward Dean and pacing his way. He stopped before he could get to the bed side, forcing himself to step away. “How could you lie to me about this? How do I even- _fuck_ Dean, why are you telling me now? What are you trying to do?”

Swallowing a few times didn't help the sick feeling in Dean's stomach. "You wouldn't stop asking, you kept asking. I didn't mean any of this, Sam. I promise. I was trying to keep myself alive at first and then you were, you're special." Dean looked up and smiled slightly seeing only betrayal on Sam's face.

Tearing a bandage off his chest, Dean winced and threw it on the floor. “You think I got all this to play a game? I was trying to protect you. Things changed for me - I don’t know when but it changed and I ... I care about you. We can figure this out, Sam. Right?” Dean looked up at the hunter, the slightest flutter of hope still in him.

“Would you have told me?” Sam asked, almost a whispered hiss as he stared hard at Dean. “If I didn’t ask, if I’d just let it go, would you have told me? Or would I just keep drinking your blood then at the end find out the nasty surprise?” He was panting slightly, caught up between the _hurt_ coursing through him.

A muscle under Dean's jaw started twitching. "I don't know, Sam." He didn't and that made him feel like absolute shit; he couldn't give Sam the one answer that might make some of the hurt stop.

“That’s basically no.” Sam stepped back, shaking his head as he turned from Dean. “I can’t believe this. Jesus.” His palm dragged down his face, mind reeling as he tried to figure out how to handle this. It was like the ground had been pulled out from under his feet and he’d never been less prepared for it. “I gotta get some air or something.” He muttered the words but didn’t move, just continued to stare down at his duffel bag.

"Will you come back?" Dean was actually surprised he could get the question out.

“Is there a point?” Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, blinking through tears. “You said it in not so many words before Dean, once this was over, there was no future for you and me. You know I’m not going to continue your training program now, are you saying you suddenly want my stupid little fantasies to come true?” The ache in Sam’s chest was more painful than anything he’d felt before and he was still having issues even thinking about walking out that door.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, Dean rubbed a hand through his hair. Pulling the night table drawer out, he pulled out one of the hex bags and stood, walking over to Sam slowly. "Take this, no demons will be able to find you. I'll tell them - you figured it out somehow. I’ll make something up." He held the bag out toward Sam. At least if Sam was protected there would be a point to the sharp pain that was slicing through him.

“So you’re leaving then.” Sam nodded slowly, pursing his lips at Dean. “That’s just your solution. Either I chose to stay or you go. Great, thanks for royally fucking up my life Dean, it was getting boring anyway.” Sam turned away from the offered hex bag, shaking his head. “I don’t need it. Thanks anyway.”

"What do you want me to do?" Dean's voice sounded empty even to him. _It was getting boring._ Yeah. That hurt. He was getting accustomed to the feeling now.

"I'm trying to protect you, if you leave they'll find you and the next demon they send won't be .. like me." Turning slowly, Dean walked over to the duffel bag that _Sam_ had bought him and pulled out one of the shirts they had picked out _together_. Everything in front of him blurred slightly as he tugged the t-shirt down over his head. His jeans were lying across the chair and he moved over there gingerly, body aching, and pulled them on.

“They can’t make me drink the blood and kill whoever the fuck. The worst they can do is kill me. I could deal with that.” Sam turned to watch Dean, already starting a mental countdown for when the demon would leave him. He supposed the worst of it now was how little he was actually mad at Dean. He was mad at himself, for falling for the lie, for falling for Dean and consequently getting hurt. It figured that his life would probably end on this note. “So I guess this is it then. You’re not going to come back to me this time, huh?”

Staring down into his bag, Dean sighed. "I don't know what you want. And it was getting-" Dean's voice broke. He hated this, _hated_ feeling so out-of-control. "Like you said, it was getting boring." Sniffing, Dean rubbed at his eyes and zipped up the bag. Hauling it up over his shoulder, he groaned weakly then clenched his jaw as he tried to just ignore the pain.

Turning slowly, his gaze finally found Sam and he smiled sadly. “I _do_ love you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t figure out how to tell you the truth sooner. You don’t have to believe that - I know you don’t. But keep the hex bags. You know they work. They’ll buy you some time. I won’t follow you.”

Pressing his lips together, Dean moved toward the door and leaned against the door while he put his boots on.

“You have trouble understanding me sometimes.” Sam whispered, unable to turn his eyes from Dean. “I never said-” Sam cut himself off with a sigh and lifted his hands to try and show how helpless he felt. “Forget it. Just fucking go. Everyone goes, I’m a big boy I guess, I’ll just...” Sam had to stop talking because he realized what he was saying didn’t seem to make much sense. He finally turned away from Dean, not wanting to watch him walk away, yet again. “I love you too Dean,” he breathed the words out, almost certain he was saying them to no one.

Turning around, he stared at nothing for a long time, unable to get himself to move. When he finally did, when he could finally feel his legs again and his heart stopped aching, he went about packing up his things. But he couldn’t get himself to bring along the hex bags. He’d make his own or something, or maybe he just wanted them to find him because at that point he was tired of forcing himself on.


	3. Chapter 3

Later, Sam would honestly be able to say he couldn’t remember much of that first week. It was a scary thought, but he figured his mind was simply trying to work through the facts and shift him back into his normal life. Sam drove, hour after hour, stopping only to get gas and stretch out his legs. All that time alone, sitting behind the wheel and staring at the passing road, there was no running from his thoughts.

For a while he replayed his entire life, thought of every single moment he used to ride in this car and pray and wish for someone who might come and fill that void in him. It would always make his thoughts turn to Dean, Sam wasn’t even sure he wanted to escape those. They’d been together long enough he could still picture Dean there in the passenger seat, the way he’d slump over onto Sam when he fell asleep, and the way Sam would wrap his arm around Dean and consider how much he didn’t mind cuddling actually.

There was no one now, and there wouldn’t be again. Sam wasn’t going down that road any more. Sure, he’d get to the point where he picked someone up for the night again, months from now though because he didn’t want to rebound after Dean. Sam couldn’t explain it, but so many of their memories together were tarnished with one big lie, he felt ruining any other of those memories would just hurt him further.

So for almost seven days straight he zig zagged his way across the country. He slept in the back of the Impala every now and then when the times between his blinks got too long. He wasn’t running from anyone or running to anyone. And in the end it was that more than anything else that got Sam to stop.

It was a weirdly unnerving thing to finally accept that your presence on the world was unnecessary. The only people who might notice his death would be the demons when that landed him in hell. After all, people who fell in love with demons had to be destined to end up there in the end.

The second week, Sam barricaded himself in a motel room and drank. It was option number two for attempting to find some ease for the ache. Mostly it resulted in a constant headache until he drank enough to pass out. That and a mildly disgusting motel room that he was pretty sure had to smell too. Sam didn’t learn anything about himself while he was drunk, except maybe that he really was as pathetic as he felt and that he’d already known.

Sam lost track of time after that. He stopped counting the days and didn’t realize he wasn’t looking over his shoulder for anyone who might be tracking him. He hadn’t made himself a new hex bag and he couldn’t bring himself to care. After all, it didn’t seem like any demon had tracked him down by that point. Maybe he was too pathetic for them; Sam wouldn’t be all that surprised.

He knew he moved, there was more driving, some days of driving sipping from a bottle of whiskey which was ridiculous, but he didn’t care. Sam stopped caring about anything and it wasn’t as scary as he thought it should be. Why should Sam continue to care if no one cared about him? It seemed a little pointless.

If he had to guess, Sam would say about a month had passed the night he found himself at the bar. He normally just bought bottles and drank in the motel room, but something in him was itching for a public environment. It wasn’t the company, the moment Sam was in the crowded bar he was annoyed by the amount of people milling around. Sam figured it had something to do with the unfortunate puke brown walls of the motel.

Starting off, Sam ordered a beer and three shots of whiskey. No point in being out if he wasn’t going to get nice and numb from it. Most of the time he felt like he was simply walking by force of habit, keeping himself moving because he wasn’t just going to wither and die on his own. Though he’d mildly considered how quickly death by alcohol could be.

It was the other guy who started it. Sam might have swayed a bit when he stepped back and bumped into him, but he apologized and stepped away. The man, however, seemed to have drunk more than Sam by that point and was itching for a fight. Even Sam’s height compared to the man’s five foot whatever didn’t seem to deter him.

“C’mere pretty boy,” the man had slurred and grabbed his arm, tugging Sam around and toward him.

Instinct had Sam reacting, drawing his fist up and slamming it hard into the man’s jaw. A rippling wave of silence blanketed the bar for a moment until the man reacted, lunging for him. Sam wasted no time in fighting back. It felt good to throw the man back, to use some of that anger and hollow ache and fight off his friends. Until Sam realized that most of the bar patrons seemed to be the guy’s friends and they were all far too drunk.

People were grabbing at his clothing and tugging him, pulling him through the bar and toward the door. Sam swung and kicked as best he could, much stronger than any of them if they weren’t all pressing in on him as one. He entertained the idea of how screwed he was, how ironic it would be if a group of drunk humans ended up killing him after everything he’d been through. All the people he saved and those people were going to be his downfall.

-=-=-=-

Dean kicked the legs out from under the man closest to him and his arm shot out to the side and sliced across another man's forearm. In one fluid movement he spun and threw the knife at a third man as he pulled a gun out of his belt and aimed it up in the air pulling the trigger.

The gunshot cracked through the air and most of the men who were sober enough to register what the sound was ducked or froze. Two of them took off running. Lowering the gun until it was aimed directly at one of the men holding Sam, he sneered at them. "Let him go and get the _fuck_ away from us." His gaze moved slowly from one man to another and he kept the gun trained on them. "Now," he hissed.

As he watched them let go, Sam fell to the ground, muttered something and laid there for a few moments. Dean paced forward as the men retreated, gun still aimed at the closest of the crowd. When he reached Sam, he kneeled down and grabbed the front of Sam's jacket. "Get up. We’ve gotta get out of here, Sam."

Blinking his eyes open slowly, Sam stared up at Dean, surprisingly unfazed to see him. “Figures,” he muttered and pushed himself up, brushing at his clothes and swaying a moment before turning to the half circled crowd. There was blood dripping from his aching nose and Sam wiped at it, sniffing. “If one of you fuckers broke my nose, I’ma be pissed.” Sam pointed his finger toward them, blinking a few times before turning to head out of the bar.

It was so _like_ Dean to show up just then, right when Sam’s life was almost at an end. Dean couldn’t let him die in piece. Grumbling under his breath, Sam tugged his keys out of his pocket, heading for his car and wiping along his nose once more.

“You’re not driving.” Dean caught up to Sam easily and grabbed his wrist. Holstering his gun, he snatched the keys out of Sam’s hand. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Dragging Sam toward the Impala, he tried to get the key in the lock and still keep hold of Sam.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Sam asked back, eyes widening as he leaned toward Dean. “I can get myself to my motel. And you’re just- you’re nuts if you think I’m gonna let you drive me.” Sam shook his head, grabbing at Dean then trying to push away, reeling from the scent of him, the feel of his body. _God_ the first time he cared about anything in a month and it was only because the way he missed Dean was almost painful.

"Sam, fuckin' stop it." Throwing the man against the car, Dean pressed up against him to hold him there while he struggled to get the key in the door. "Calm down, Sam. You're gonna hurt yourself."

“Get off me.” Sam whispered but it lacked all the heat he’d been meaning to put behind the words. He pushed at Dean, trying to get free, but the demon was using his strength against him. “Just go away.” Sam closed his eyes, turning his head away from Dean. “I don’t need your help.”

"That's fine. I'll get you away from these guys who _obviously_ want to kill you, get you safely into your motel room and you can go back to killing yourself in a slower fashion." He finally got the key in the lock and then fumbled with the door handle and yanked it open.

Sliding his arm up Sam's chest, he pressed his forearm against the front of Sam's throat. "Now. You gonna get in the car and let me drive you there or should I just knock you out now?"

“Fuck you.” Sam spat and shoved hard at Dean, dislodging him enough to move. But everything spun as he stepped away and Sam had to face his own sort of defeat. He sank down into the car and tugged the door shut, leaning against it almost gratefully. He couldn’t even remember the last thing he ate, just alcohol churning in an empty belly and he was beginning to hope he’d last long enough not to throw up in his car.

Dean groaned and pressed his fingers to the window for a moment before moving around the car and getting in. So far, seeing Sam again was going pretty much exactly how he'd expected it to go. Badly.

Firing up the engine Dean pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Sam's motel. Of course he knew where it was, like he knew where every other motel was that Sam had stayed in. After all, he'd never been more than a couple hundred feet from Sam since the day he'd last spoken to him.

The moment the car stopped, Sam pushed the door open, hands digging into his pockets to find his room key. He tripped on the curb, barely recovering, and wiped still seeping blood from his nose until he walked into the motel door. Apparently being drunk made him a classy catch and as much as Sam wanted Dean there, he almost wished Dean was gone already, just so he wouldn’t see him.

When he finally managed to unlock the door, he stumbled inside, slapping at the wall until the light turned on. He left the door open as he kicked off his shoes and tore off his coat, sending it across the room where it landed on a pile of empty beer cans on the floor. Finally, Sam glanced over to see if Dean was still there, pointing at the table. “You can put the keys there, not gonna need ‘em.” He headed for the fridge, ready for a couple more drinks until he could pass out and get some sleep.

Closing the door behind him, Dean leaned against it and watched Sam weave across the room. The last thing the man needed was more alcohol. “Sam, what the hell are you doing? You look like shit.”

“Gee thanks Dean, it’s good to see you too.” Sam grabbed a beer from the fridge and held it up, almost sneering at him. “Want a beer? I know how much you like them.”

“No, I want you to put that drink down so I don't have to take it from you. Then I want you to get into bed.” Dean locked the door and closed the distance between them. Even like this, Sam looked good. It practically took his breath away to be so close to the man after so long.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have to listen to you. Why should I?” Sam stared at Dean, struggling with his resolve. It was painful, the way so much of him wanted to cling to the feelings just seeing Dean were stirring up in him. After all this time of not feeling anything, the rush of emotions was almost painful. “You’ll just leave if I tell you too, so go on. Get out. And I can what? Get back to the slow killing of myself.”

Taking a final step, Dean snatched the beer out of Sam’s hand and spun to set it on the table behind him. Turning back to Sam, he shoved at his jacket. “Get undressed and get in bed.” Sam tried to pull away and Dean simply held on to the front of his jacket. Shoving him _hard,_ he pushed him back toward the bed until Sam had no choice but to sit down.

“What are you doing Dean? Did they send you here? Are you supposed to get me to trust you again?” Sam stared up at Dean, annoyed by the way his eyes were pricking with tears. “I don’t want to see you. I can’t feel this way again. Go away. Just leave me alone.” It would help his argument if he could manage to push Dean away. Instead he was just gripping his hips, holding him there.

"No one sent me here. I've never..." Licking his lips Dean closed his eyes for a moment and turned his eyes away. "You need rest, Sam. Let me help you get into bed and I'll go. I just wanna know you're safe."

Loosening his grip on Sam's jacket, Dean slid his hand up to Sam's cheek and held it there for a few moments. "Please."

“Don’t.” Sam turned away from the touch, struggling to push away so he could take care of himself. It hurt that Dean was still talking about going, which Sam knew was stupid, he’d told the demon to leave, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Dean’s hands moved down to help him get the jacket off his arm and Sam struggled away from him, catching Dean’s wrist to pull him away.

Looking up at Dean, an angry outburst forming on his tongue, Sam’s gaze got caught on the familiar strong jaw, the splatter of freckles across the bridge of Dean’s nose. Those green eyes that he sometimes thought he could see black flicker through even when Dean’s power wasn’t being used. And those lips. “Pretty lips,” Sam mumbled out loud, staring for a moment more before meeting Dean’s eyes. It was so easy to tug him in, to crush his lips against Dean’s and _feel_ once more.

Letting out a shiver of a breath, Dean shoved Sam down onto the bed and crawled over him until he was straddling the man's hips. Their lips crashed together again and he moaned as his fingers made their way into Sam's hair. Pulling roughly, he snapped Sam's head back and dragged his mouth down the man's long neck. "Sam," he whispered against hot skin.

“Don’t.” Sam gasped and ran his hands over Dean’s body, touching every inch of him he could reach. “Please don’t say we can’t.” He rolled his body up against Dean’s, moaning low in his throat as Dean’s lips moved over his skin. Just like that and Sam’s entire body was on fire, though he’d thought he’d never feel that way again. Lust and want slammed hard into his system and Sam shoved his hands roughly up under Dean’s shirt, seeking out the heat of his skin.

Grinding his hips down against Sam's was as natural as drawing in his next breath. Sitting up long enough to shrug out of his jacket then tear his t-shirt up over his head, Dean dropped back down quickly. Mouth colliding with Sam's, he moaned and thrust his tongue forward. Even with the bitter taste of alcohol Dean recognized _Sam_ , just _Sam_.

Sam groaned into the kiss, almost unprepared for the way it made him feel. Dean’s lips were just as soft and sweet as they’d always been and Sam kissed back just as hard, as if he could mold them together.

“Dean,” Sam gasped as he pulled back, cupping his face and pushing him up so their eyes could meet. “Fuck me. Please, I want- I just want to feel-” His voice caught on the words and he dragged Dean back down, kissing him hard once more as his hands slid down along his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms.

Dean's back arched as a wave of desire rippled its way down his body. Sam's hands were relentless, sliding over Dean's flesh and clawing into his muscles. Moaning louder, Dean pulled back and gasped. He pushed Sam's jacket the rest of the way off and shoved his t-shirt up until he could sink down and mouth his way along the curves of Sam's muscles. _Fuck_ , he'd never felt more alive.

Gulping in air when their lips finally parted for a few moments, Dean shifted to the side and tore the rest of Sam's t-shirt off. Shaking hands descended on Sam's belt and pulled it loose. All the while Dean's eyes were trailing over Sam's body, his chest rising and falling as he panted, a dark flush creeping up his body.

It felt like Sam was drunk for a completely different reason, the touch and feel of Dean moving all around him almost too much for him to handle. He lifted his hips, letting Dean pull off his jeans and boxers, reaching up to grip a hand hard in Dean’s hair and drag him in. A low moan tore through his chest and Sam pressed forward, thrusting his tongue hard into Dean’s mouth. This was exactly what he needed, after a full month without Dean he was clinging to this because it was the only way to make him feel alive again.

Reaching out, Sam fumbled with Dean’s jeans, tugging at the denim hard and fast until he could shove down. He was panting as he watched Dean kick out of the remainder of his clothing, more than a little relieved when they were both naked. He dragged Dean back over him, twisting around on the bed and spreading his legs so Dean would fall between them. “Dean,” he moaned, rocking his hips up so their cocks would slide together.

Dean's entire body was trembling as he sank down over Sam's body. He was thinner and Dean's hands trailed slowly down Sam's sides as he re-learned the feel of his lover. As their cocks slid together again, Dean sank forward and bit down hard on the top of Sam's shoulder; he wanted everything.

Holding himself up on shaking arms, he stared down at Sam's face, the way his lip was caught under his teeth. Rolling his hips forward, the heat of his shaft slid along Sam's and his muscles rippled. "Sam, don't ask me to go anymore," he breathed.

“Not gonna,” Sam whispered and swallowed thickly, rolling his hips up against Dean’s. “Don’t go anymore.” His hands lifted, curling around Dean’s neck and pulling him in again. It felt a little like he’d been sleep walking through the last month, finally he was able to breathe again, _feel_ again. It made the moment seem only more perfect. “Couldn’t feel without you, couldn’t breathe.” He whispered against Dean’s lips, closing his eyes and forcing them open again because he had to remind himself this was real.

Dean's hands slid up to curve over Sam’s cheeks. "It's okay," he whispered. Breathing the same air as his lover for a few moments, he rolled off Sam's body. Without even thinking Dean reached out for the nightstand and pulled out the drawer, there was a small bottle of lube where they'd kept it for months in each room. His blood thickened and slowed.

Reaching back for Sam, Dean gripped the hunter's throat just under his jaw. Leaning down, he whispered against Sam's ear, "Did you..." He couldn't even ask. The idea of Sam with someone else burned a hole right through his chest. He'd been watching - there couldn't have been time, but his mind was spinning.

“No.” Sam gasped and tilted his head up, meeting Dean’s gaze. “Couldn’t. Didn’t want anyone but you.” Sam wet his lips to chase the taste of Dean, moaning softly at the pressure against his throat. The way Dean could make him feel was almost too much for him to take, like a burning along his veins, steadily driving him insane.

Eyes scanning across Dean’s, Sam studied him for a long moment before forcing himself to speak. “Did you?” He didn’t think Dean would have, he couldn’t imagine him with anyone else.

Dean stared down into Sam's eyes as he slid his hand up to grip the man's jaw. "Never. I want you." He could swear he felt Sam's body shiver with relief.

Pressing up against Sam's side, he managed to get his fingers slicked and found Sam's mouth again. It was sweet, hot, wet and all the things he remembered. It was like breathing again, like being alive, _really_ alive. Crushing his lips against Sam's, he slid his hand over the man's thigh and whispered. "Tell me you love me."

A shudder of pleasure and warmth shook Sam’s spine, his entire body coursing with the possibility of what was to come. “I love you,” he whispered and closed his eyes, losing himself for a long moment in the vulnerable feeling. He was here all over again, putting himself on the line and hoping it didn’t come back to kill him once more.

“God, I love you Dean.” Sam half gasped the words and tugged Dean close again, kissing him hard and deep.

The words washed over Dean, heat burned up his spine and he moved quickly. Pressing his weight against Sam's, he rolled half onto him and thrust two fingers hard into his tight ring of muscle. The hunter's back arched up in a strong curve and Dean mouthed his way down the middle of Sam's chest. Lapping at the sheen of sweat on his skin, Dean groaned low and long; his breath was hot against Sam's flesh.

“Jesus,” Sam gasped, surprised by the stretch and burn. He’d never done this before, never let anyone take him like this and he thought the fact that he was letting Dean take this from him was some sort of sign he couldn’t ignore.

“Dean.” Sam’s hand fluttered down Dean’s back, curving along his skin and drawing up. “Do you- am I still...” Sam didn’t know how to say it, how to ask Dean is he still cared like he said he did. One of the worst things from their last fight that had haunted Sam had been Dean saying _I don’t want to love you anymore_. Sam was terrified at the idea it could be true.

Dean's fingers moved, rough and urgent, stretching Sam's entrance. "Fuck, Sam..." Catching the hunter's lips under his, Dean's tongue slid forward to claim the wet heat of his lover's mouth. Everything inside him was on fire, yearning, wanting more of whatever Sam had to give him. _All of it._

Gasping for air, Dean panted softly against Sam's lips. "I love you," he murmured. "I want this." It was a whisper and Dean's breath hitched in his chest. "I want _you_."

“God yes,” Sam gasped, rocking back against Dean’s fingers, stretching him wider and pulling him apart. He could feel the faint burn, the bite of pain but he savored it, needed it to remind himself that this was real. Sam pushed up and crushed his lips to Dean’s, digging his fingers hard into the demon’s back.

When he pulled back again he was breathless, his eyes trailing lust blurred over Dean’s features. “Do it. Want you in me.” He rocked his hips down against Dean’s fingers to prove his point, clenching his muscles to draw out more pressure. “Never done this before.”

"Good." Dean rolled forward and shoved Sam’s legs further apart so he could settle between them. It was almost like physical pain to pull his fingers free of Sam's heat. The feeling was pure bliss, he'd never felt anything like it - being back there, pressed flush against his lover and hearing Sam's muffled moans and cries.

Kneeling up, Dean took a few precious moments to run his palms up Sam's body, fingers bumping over new bruises and old wounds. "Gorgeous," he murmured. Then he dragged Sam's ass up onto his thighs, hand snaking between them to guide the blunt head of his cock against puckered flesh.

“Jesus Dean.” Sam moaned softly and shifted back, slipping his legs around Dean’s body to draw him in closer. The first split of his muscles, Dean slipping inside, had Sam’s mind reeling. The burn slid up his spine, curling through his body and Dean was inching forward, Sam had never felt anything quite like it.

His fingers curled hard over Dean’s arms, eyes scanning along his skin. There were only the faintest scars now, hardly any sign of the cuts he’d had last time Sam had seen him and he was fairly certain Dean was the gorgeous one here. Sucking in a sharp breath, Sam rocked his body against Dean, trying to pull him in deeper. He reached out for Dean, trying to draw him down, pushing up to try and touch however he could.

Dean wasn't prepared for the way it felt to be pushing into Sam's heat. Everything in him was aching and flaring and he could hardly suck in the oxygen he needed to move. Staring down at Sam's face, he watched the fleeting kiss of pain on the hunter's features and then a softening, a sort of resignation and _letting go_. The weight of it- this giving in - made it that much harder to pull breath into his lungs and Dean gasped roughly as he gripped Sam's hips and thrust hard forward.

Suddenly, wrapped in the heat and grip of Sam's ass, Dean cried out and slid one hand roughly up Sam's chest to curl around his neck. Yanking, he pulled Sam up and their mouths crashed together. It was rough and Dean shuddered as his hips thrust again, harder, and he was completely inside Sam.

The way Dean was filling him was almost enough to make Sam come. But he lost himself in Dean’s kiss, the way their bodies met and crashed together like waves before falling apart once more. Each breath he pulled in was full of Dean’s scent, making his skin prickle with pleasure. He felt empty the moment Dean’s hips drew back then so impossibly full all over again as he moved forward.

Sam wrenched back from the kiss, allowing Dean’s hands to support his weight as he arched back. “Dean,” he moaned the name low in his throat, clenching his muscles around Dean and digging his nails hard into the demon’s shoulders. He could feel the skin breaking under his finger tips, the strong scent of blood hitting his senses and Sam’s entire body jerked. “Fuck.”

The pain only just managed to cut through Dean's lust. He was entirely focused on Sam, the way their hips were rocking together, the heat of it. "Oh, Sam..." Holding Sam like that, the hunter's body taut as he lay back over Dean's arms, was perfect.

Dean’s hips pounded forward, his cock aching as it slid back into Sam’s heat. Silky, slick and tight - _so_ tight - Dean knew he couldn't take much more. Bringing one hand forward, he curled his fist around Sam’s shaft. Thick and heavy in his hand he felt the flesh twitch against his palm. “Sam, fuck... I-” he let out a strangled moan and his body pushed forward again.

The burning feel of Dean’s palm against his cock sent Sam’s hips up, his body rocking hard against Dean’s cock. Every part of him was screaming _more_ and _not enough_. Then just like that his orgasm was flaring through him, curling his body forward until he was nearly pressed against Dean. He sucked in sharp and shaky breaths, eyes fluttering closed as he twitched from the hard pulse of his release.

Circling his arms tight around Sam's body, Dean pulled the hunter as close as he could. Hips stuttering up a few short thrusts was all it took for Dean to join Sam on his ride. They rocked together slowly, Dean's cock pulsing his release hot into Sam's ass. Their movements slowed as the pleasure worked its way through their bodies and Dean felt Sam melt against him.

"Sam," he whispered into the man's hair. The scent was still there - though a little faint - the scent of _Sam_ that he remembered. "No more bein' apart."

“Okay.” Sam nodded, curling against Dean’s chest and closing his eyes. He pulled in deep lungfuls, exhaling slowly and running his nose along Dean’s collarbone. “You been following me?” He murmured, slipping his arms around Dean’s body to cling to him. He remembered a time before when he hadn’t wanted to let Dean go. Now he felt that more than ever.

One hand slid up through Sam's hair and Dean could help but smile. "Never stopped, never left."

“Then you saw everything.” Sam murmured, wondering how he had missed Dean following him for an entire month. “Never used a hex bag, left them.”

"I know," Dean said sadly. He'd done what he could to protect Sam, spent hours at night watching over him, set up wards when he could, left hex bags in his rooms at night. "I took care of you, said I would."

“You made sure I didn’t die.” Sam pulled back a little, meeting Dean’s gaze. “Would say how I felt was really...” Sam sighed and shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “Nevermind, I don’t want to fight over it. Just want it to be us again.”

Lifting Sam gently, Dean winced as he adjusted to the lack of Sam’s heat. Lying _his_ hunter down he grabbed a shirt and wiped them down, eyes lingering on Sam’s body, the sharp jut of his hipbone. “You lost weight.”

“Haven’t eaten much.” Sam shrugged and pulled Dean down, wanting to press as flush against his heat as he could. “Do I look bad?” He half smirked at Dean, as if the demon might actually say he did.

“Perfect,” Dean murmured. Lifting the covers over Sam, he smiled down at him for a moment, trying to convince himself that he was _actually_ there, that Sam wouldn't disappear. Slipping his arm under Sam’s neck, he pulled him half across his chest as he settled down under the covers himself. Letting out a long sigh, he grabbed Sam’s hair and pulled back to tilt the man’s face up to his. “We... this can be good,” he said softly. For the first time ever it wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. It can be.” Sam agreed with a slow nod. “We can still hunt, fight evil together. Between the two of us we’d be unstoppable.” Sam smiled softly at Dean, pushing through the demon’s grip so he could press close again. “Not gonna let you go again.”

A smile flitted across Dean’s lips and he brushed them against Sam’s gently. “Sleep. You look exhausted and you’re still drunk and I want to shower with you tomorrow.”

“Mmkay.” Sam nodded and curled against Dean’s chest, draping across him and closing his eyes. “Night Dean.”

Stroking Sam's hair, Dean's smile faded as he felt the man relax against him. He wished it were as simply as _fighting evil_ and kicking some ass but things were still a bit more complicated than that. For tonight - Dean was willing to try and push it aside. They were safe with the hex bag in his jacket pocket, Sam was in his arms and in the morning there would be plenty of time for talking.

-=-=-=-

For the first time in weeks, Dean slept deep and long. When he finally woke in the morning he smiled; the warmth of Sam’s body was still pressed up against him. Sam’s fingers were splayed wide across Dean’s belly and his face was buried in Dean’s hair.

Rolling slightly, Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s temple. Lifting his watch he groaned, it was already mid-morning. “Hey,” he whispered. “Wake up, sleepy head.” Sam moaned and nestled closer and Dean laughed. “Sammy, we gotta get up.”

“Why?” Sam grumbled and twisted into Dean, pressing against his side. “Sleep is good.” His arm slid around Dean, half sprawling on top of him. “Go back to sleep.” He whispered though he’d already been awake for awhile now and just keeping his eyes closed, not really wanting to face the real world.

“I’ve got an idea. Wanna get us set up somewhere for a while and ... we should ... talk.” It felt like a bit of a death sentence. _Talking_ had never gone particularly well for them - but Sam was worth it. _This_ was worth it to Dean.

Rubbing Sam’s shoulders gently, Dean slid down a little so their eyes could meet. Well, if he could get Sam to open his eyes. Tapping his finger on the end of Sam’s nose, Dean grinned. “Sammy, I won’t kiss you all day if you stay asleep.”

“Are you gonna kiss me all day?” Sam forced his eyes open and slowly grinned at Dean. It was really good to see him there, see the smile on his face. Dean was gorgeous, Sam could spend the day just staring at him, but kissing definitely wouldn’t hurt. “Does that mean we don’t have to talk?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could have a conversation, but with their past talking just didn’t have the best record for them. Sam was going to try though, because he couldn’t go through that month of emptiness again.

“I need a promise from you if we’re gonna do this.” Dean stared hard into Sam’s eyes, thumb lifting to trace the high curve of the man’s cheek bone.

“What kind of promise?” Sam asked in a soft whisper, leaning into the touch. He tried not to be too apprehensive, but it was hard to know what was coming with Dean sometimes.

“Never be like this again. You ... watching you Sam, it was so hard. I wanted you back and you scared me. Your eyes were so blank and ... lifeless. No matter what. You gotta promise me - you’ll never do that again.” Dean’s fingers were in Sam’s hair, and he hooked his leg over Sam’s and held him close. “Please.”

Sam stared at Dean for a long moment, frowning slightly before looking away. “It’s complicated Dean. I... _felt_ lifeless. It’s hard not to act on that. I didn’t want to...” He sighed and shrugged. “I promise not to let you see me act that way again.” He wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he wouldn’t fall apart again if Dean left him once more, but if it happened again it would be for good and Sam wouldn’t let Dean see it.

“That’s not gonna work for me, Sammy.” Dean dropped his gaze and reached up to his neck to pull off the pendent he was wearing. Pushing at Sam gently, Dean slipped the leather chord over Sam’s neck. “It’s for protection.”

Dean pressed his hand against the pendent and took a deep breath. “If you ever feel like that again, you come to me, right? You find me....wherever. No matter what - and we’ll get through it together.” Dean wasn’t sure if he was getting the words right - or even making Sam understand.

“Sam, I’m saying... I’m gonna be here. As long as I can...Okay?” Dean smiled slightly. Nervous. He looked up into Sam’s eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“That means you will leave, huh?” Sam smiled sadly back at him and reached up, curling his fingers over Dean’s on the pendant he now wore. “What if the reason I feel that way is you? Will you come back then?” Sam definitely didn’t _want_ to feel that way again and he wished he could promise that he wouldn’t or he wouldn’t act so reckless but there was no way to say for sure. “I’ve never felt like I did and do with you, I wasn’t prepared to handle losing it.”

“Sam, fuck. Listen, I’m not leaving. What I’m trying in my stupid-ass way to tell you is that I won’t be going anywhere again. Not unless they come for me. Not unless I _can’t_ get to you. So - Sam, you’re never gonna feel that way again because of me. “Leaning closer, Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead.

Lips moving against Sam’s skin, Dean smiled slightly. “I never left you, Sam. I was always with you. Sometimes, I sat right outside your door all night. I came in every night and stared down at you while you were sleeping. All I ever let myself do was brush your hair off your forehead. But I _never_ left you. Not once.” Dean looked down and bit his bottom lip.

“Wow.” Sam stared hard at Dean for a long moment before laughing softly. “That’s a little creepy.” He pointed out with a smirk and shook his head. His fingers slid through Dean’s hair, trying to imagine Dean doing the same thing while he slept. He’d been so drunk and passed out during those times he never would have known Dean was there. It was a little terrifying to think how easily exposed he was and yet not at all because Dean was looking out for him.

“So you drove that whole time too, huh?” Sam frowned, finally looking away. “Did you watch after me when I slept in the car on the side of the road?”

Shrugging, Dean smiled crookedly. “Back seat.”

“Man. You must have- you just let me do that? You didn’t try and stop me. What were you even thinking? You must have thought I was insane.” Sam could feel heat crawling across his cheeks. He was ridiculous for acting on his emotions that way, how had Dean not given up?

“I thought you were hurting. I _thought_ you would be better with me gone, you told me to go. Next time? I won’t listen.” Dean’s shoulder stiffened a little. “You won’t be able to get me to go.” Pulling Sam closer, Dean felt the man’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. “You got that?”

“I won’t ask you again.” Sam said softly and curled up against Dean’s body, content to lose himself in the heat of him. “I was hurt you know. The lie... that’s... god it’s huge. But I’ve had time now; I know that when you first came to me you lied because that’s what you were meant to do. And I get that you fell for me without meaning to. Jesus, if you’d asked me before I never would have thought a demon _could_ love.” Sam buried his nose in Dean’s neck, breathing in his scent. “I’m not mad at you about it anymore. You told me before and that’s all that matters.”

“Sam Winchester.” Dean shifted back a little. “You haven’t promised. I don’t want to just _not_ see you fall apart. You need to come to me, no matter what. Promise me.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam dipped his head in a slow nod. “Alright, I promise. I will come to you, no matter what.” In truth he didn’t want to get to that point, he just wanted Dean with him forever, but he figured Dean knew that.

“Anything you need to ask me? Or have I been all open and caring and shit and now we’re good.” Ducking his head down, Dean grinned and rubbed his hand down Sam’s side.

“Can I just reserve the right to ask you anything at any point in time if I need to?” Sam pushed closer, nudging at Dean until he looked up again and their lips could brush together.

“I suppose,” Dean whispered. If he didn’t get out of that bed soon Sam was going to end up keeping him there for another few hours. “Get your ass in the shower.” Dean rolled back and sighed. _Fuck_ , he had so little willpower when it came to Sam.

“Thought you wanted to shower with me,” Sam murmured, sliding back off the bed and waggling his brows at Dean. “I’m a bit thinner yeah, you’re pretty strong, think you could lift me up?” Sam laughed and hopped off the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Groaning, Dean rolled off the bed and headed after Sam. Like he really had a choice.


	4. Chapter 4

It happened so fast Sam hadn’t even realized they were alone until it was over. Or well, until Dean was quite suddenly gone. They were following up a lead, Dean’s lead, and the warehouses were most likely abandoned, but it was the only place they knew to start. Sam supposed in the end it was actually a trap, news had been passed along through what Dean had thought was a reliable source and in the end they’d just been planning on getting at them both in one swipe.

They came at them only a few steps from the Impala. Sam was walking ahead, pistol curled in his grasp as he walked steadily up the gravel path. Dean was quiet as they usually would be on a hunt, a natural hunter himself because of his demon abilities. The path was dark, only lit by the moon and Sam crossed into the darkest part of a shadow from the tree in the open field.

A few more steps and Sam froze, realizing with a sinking in the pit of his stomach that there weren’t echoing footsteps behind him. He whipped around swiftly, scanning through the darkness. He didn’t need to call out; Dean was quite clearly not there. Part of him wanted to think it was a joke, Dean messing with him, but he knew the demon wouldn’t do that when they were investigating something.

Sam could hear the increase of his heart rate, could feel the hard slam of it against his chest. He knew that Dean wouldn’t just disappear without saying something, without warning Sam in some way. Something was wrong, horribly wrong, and Sam didn’t have much of a choice but to continue to the warehouse. Even knowing it was a trap, he couldn’t leave Dean to suffer whatever fate might come from whoever had taken him.

The warehouse was worn down, it had been half destroyed by a fire and Sam almost thought he could smell the lingering smoke. Sam felt almost sick, pushing forward with a death tight grip on his pistol and the knife in his free hand.

Dean’s low keen was the first thing Sam heard as he turned down the hallway. It was followed quickly by a sickening crunch of flesh and skin and Sam knew they were trying to shut Dean up. It was undoubtedly a trap, there could be any number of demons or whatever in that room waiting for Sam and he couldn’t be foolish enough to simply go in. Now it came down to rescuing Dean, not getting them both killed.

The hardest part then was flattening against the wall, listening to the sneers coming from just inside the room.

“Sure takin’ him a while huh, Dean?” One man was sneering and the muffled grunt that followed had to be from the bound Dean. “Maybe he gave up on you. Maybe you’re not so important. Whatcha think, Nikki?”

“I think little ol’ Sammy boy is probably relieved Dean’s up and vanished. Sure he’s gettin’ tired of Dean’s stench.” A girl laughed, a tad shrilly and Sam flinched.

“Maybe he hasn’t even noticed,” the man pointed out again and laughed louder. “Maybe he’s off bein’ the fuckin’ hero and he hasn’t even realized his little demon fuck toy has vanished.”

“Ooh I think that one got to him Marcus, look at how he twitches, no wonder Alistair enjoys playing with him so much.” The girl cackled again and something clattered in the room, the girl’s laughter dying again. “Any luck with the Winchester?”

“He’s hiding. Probably scared.” Another voice joined the group, followed swiftly by a loud clatter, another muffled groan.

Sam jerked against the wall, biting down hard on his lip to keep from barreling into the room to save Dean. It had to be the right time, the right moment. Adrenaline pumped through Sam’s system, his heart racing harder and faster, his stomach churning in twisting circles so hard it was almost painful.

“Sammy boy!” The first man - Marcus - called out once more and his word was followed by another series of laughter.

Swallowing thickly, Sam slid along the wall, peeking just around the corner. Dean was bound to a chair in the middle of the room, his mouth covered with tape. There was a cut on his face that was bleeding, another across his chest, like they had simply been bored and were messing around with him.

There was pain across Dean’s face and Sam quickly slid back, closing his eyes to force in a deep breath. It was better to wait; he’d get Dean out alive somehow if he just waited for the right moment.

It came a moment later when Marcus sent the new demon to search for Sam once more. Sam slid back down the hall away from the door, tucking his pistol quickly away and grasping the knife tightly. The laughter followed the demon out into the hallway, more teasing sneers thrown at Dean.

Sam reached out and snagged the demon, clasping his hand hard over the demon’s mouth and pressing in, dragging the demon up against his chest. “Shh, just need a little energy to get rid of you fuckers.” Sam growled against the demon’s ear and twisted round, cutting at the demon’s shirt shoulder to access skin.

He hadn’t taken any blood in more than a month, even with Dean back he hadn’t tried it again, and they hadn’t discussed it. But Sam was going to do this now; he was going to save Dean and these people.

The blood was different from Dean’s. It still sparked and tingled with energy and power, but it didn’t come with the extra heat. Sam felt no passion or desire, simply the drive to feel the energy and harness it, strengthen it. Sam drank as much as he could as fast as he could, pulling over and over at the skin until his entire mouth was coated with blood and the Demon pressed against his chest seemed to have stopped twitching.

Sam jerked back in time to see the thick cloud of black small sinking into the ground around them. Either the Demon had chosen to leave or Sam had pulled it from the man’s body without being aware. Either way, he was now holding a man who looked more than a little confused about being there.

“Shh,” Sam whispered and slowly released him, nudging him back. “Run. Get out of here and _run_.”

Clearly the man didn’t have to be told twice.

Sam felt like his entire body was humming with power. It felt as if his fingers were sparking, tingling with each move he made. Heading forward, Sam walked down the hallway and into the main room, gaze snapping over to the girl demon who was nearly straddling Dean as she cut his chest. A slow growl curled through Sam and he crossed the room in three quick strides, tugging the girl off Dean and throwing her hard across the room.

“Don’t touch him.” He watched the girl fall to the floor, looking wide eyed up at him. Before she could recover Sam lifted his hand, curling his fingers together slowly and focusing in all his energy. The black smoke rose swiftly from her mouth, clouding up in the air until it was vanishing in a puff, leaving the previously possessed on the floor.

“Jesus Christ how’d you get so powerful, Sammy?” Marcus spat at him, looking away from the girl and toward Sam. He at least had the wisdom to step back and look apprehensive.

Sam scowled, clenching his jaw as he stepped forward. “No one hurts Dean.” He was nearly panting the words, sweat beading along his brow. His fingers were even beginning to tremble, but Sam didn’t care.

“Take it easy Sammy, we were just doin’ our jobs.” Marcus stepped back, hands held up in mock surrender.

“Don’t call me that.” Sam sneered and paced across the room once more, gripping the Demon hard by the arm and dragging him up. “Who sent you?”

“Some guy or some other guy, how can you even remember those things, huh?” Marcus muttered, blinking a few times and Sam took pride in the obvious fear flickering across his gaze.

“That’s fine; you don’t have to tell me, you’re going to die anyway.” Sam shrugged and shoved at Marcus, pushing him against the wall and stepping back to lift his hand once more.

It was almost easier the second time, pulling the demon swiftly from the man and watching the smoke curl in the air. Sam watched the man sink down to the ground, dazed but breathing. His eyes were fixed there for a long moment before he turned quickly and ran across the room to Dean, kneeling down in front of him.

“God Dean, are you alright?” Sam winced as he pulled at the tape covering Dean’s mouth, hurrying around to get the ties. “Did you see what I did? Both of them! I got them both out Dean, you saw right?” Now that Dean was safe Sam felt alright about being proud of himself, he’d worked hard to gain that power.

Several things ran through Dean’s mind all at once. He was proud of Sam; he’d never seen a better sight than Sam’s face. As soon as he saw Sam he’d known that he was going to be okay. The way Sam had pulled the demons was amazing; Dean was still blinking and staring at the floor where the smoke had disappeared. “Sam, how did you...”

Eyes widening, Dean struggled as Sam released the last of his binds and tried to stand. Stumbling forward he fell to his knees and struggled back up. “Did you drink from one of them?” Looking around wildly, Dean tried to remember how many demons had been there.

“Don’t push yourself, god Dean.” Sam laughed softly and helped Dean up to his feet, holding Dean against his side. He glanced over, not all that surprised that the two non-possessed people had run off. “There were three, but they’re gone, clearly. I think the people are long gone too. How are you feeling? Did they hurt you more than the obvious?”

Whirling toward Sam, Dean snatched at Sam's shirt. Jealously swelled in him, harsh in his gut. "Did you drink from someone? _Tell_ me."

Sam frowned at Dean, surprised by his words. “I- yeah Dean. I had to, I needed to save you. You had the knife; I couldn’t have stopped them any other way. I’m- I had to.” Sam’s heart sank slightly in his chest and he pursed his lips.

Dean took a step back and turned away slightly. "That's. That’s what - fuck it. Let's just get out of here." Wiping at his forehead, Dean wiped the blood on his shirt and turned back to Sam. "Was good, Sam. I'm glad you did it." Dean's gut was twisting, tight and painful. The thought of Sam drinking _blood_ from someone else made him feel a little ill and a lot _angry_.

“But.” Sam's frown deepened as he watched Dean move. “I thought- Dean, it was just to save you. I wouldn’t have done that you know if it wasn’t for you.” Sam reached out for him, gently touching Dean’s arm. This wasn’t the outcome he’d expected, he thought Dean would just be happy, would be proud of him. Sam didn’t know how to handle this. “Was I not supposed to? Or, Jesus Dean, are you _jealous_?”

“What? No. _No._ , I mean-” Dean huffed and ran a hand through his hair. When he looked over at Sam he could see the hunter’s lips twitch. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean rolled his shoulders back. “Fine,” he blurted out. “I’m jealous- it’s _my_ thing. It’s ... it’s. You know, it’s intimate.” When Dean looked over at Sam the man was smirking slightly so Dean sneered at him. “Whatever, I can say things. I know things about ... relationships.”

“Yeah, sure you do.” Sam nodded and rolled his lips together, finding it more and more difficult not to laugh. “Dean, it was completely about saving you. I mean, sure the guy sucked me off afterward but it was no big deal.” Sam stared at Dean for a moment when the demon’s eyes widened then gave in to the laughter. “I’m _kidding_. Jesus Dean, you know I wouldn’t have even considering the blood thing if it wasn’t to save you! Chill out, there’s no other demons in my life but you.” Sam hooked his arms around Dean, drawing him in close.

Trying not to relax into Sam’s arms, Dean pulled back slightly. “Don’t do it again,” he murmured. Licking his lips, he wiped at the blood on Sam’s lips. “Hate it.”

“I swear, only if you’re tied up to a chair and I have to pull some demons to get you free.” Sam smiled down at Dean, sliding his hands up Dean’s back. “Would it make you feel better if I drank some of your blood too?”

“Yes.” Dean knew it was ridiculous - but Sam was _his_. Snatching the knife out of Sam’s hand he drew it across his wrist quickly watching as the dark red drops beaded up. Walking Sam backwards, he wetted his bottom lip and gazed up at Sam. “You want it?”

“You know I do.” Sam whispered and it was true. Even if they hadn’t spoken about it, Dean knew Sam occasionally caught him looking at his pulsing vein. His tongue dragged unconsciously over his lips as he stared down at the blood. “You want it too,” Sam murmured and it wasn’t a question, he could tell by the look on Dean’s face that he wanted it.

Grasping the underside of Dean’s wrist, Sam brought it up to his lips, sealing his mouth over the cut and drawing at the blood. It was so different from the other demon’s, the sudden slam of heat and _want_ coursing through him. Sam moaned and stepped forward, free arm sliding around Dean’s waist to draw him forward and hold him flush against his body.

Dean's lashes fluttered closed and he shuddered as Sam's tongue flicked at the cut on his wrist. He hadn't wanted to suggest it before; didn't want Sam to think he was pushing him again to be something different - to change. But Sam wanting it was entirely too much to resist. _Not_ that he tried.

His fingers curled in Sam's hair, nails dragging across the man's scalp. "I love you, Sammy." Biting his bottom lip hard, Dean felt his knees buckle when Sam bit gently at the flesh of his wrist.

Shuddering at the words, Sam pulled back from the cut, meeting Dean’s lust filled gaze. “I love you too Dean,” he murmured and wet his lips, sliding his hand down to slowly rub across the heat in Dean’s crotch. “What else you want Dean? Right here in the warehouse or you think you can wait until we get out?” A slight smirk pulled at Sam’s lips and he lifted Dean’s arm again, lapping slowly at the cut. He felt almost dizzy with the amount of power pulsing through him and he swayed into Dean.

"Here," Dean rasped. "Fuck me." Shrugging out of his jacket, he let it drop to the ground, tugged his shirt up over his head. His fingers were shaking as he unbuckled his belt and stepped into Sam again. Closing his eyes he dragged his lips along Sam's jaw. "Sam," he groaned.

“God.” Sam gasped and ran his hands swiftly along Dean’s body, running along his overheated skin. He couldn’t believe this was going to happen here, the thrill of adrenaline and the rush from saving Dean. “Fuck you’re so hot Dean,” Sam groaned and pulled back, tugging off his own clothing and dropping it down onto the ground.

He moved quickly, nearly knocking Dean onto the ground and pressing down over him. Their lips came together hard once more, Sam fumbling along Dean’s jeans until they were both bare. Sam moaned low in his throat, his hips rocking hard down against Dean’s. They’d been a little bit crazy for each other since Dean came back, ending up caught up in each other more often than not, but Sam didn’t care and this was perfect always in his mind.

Dean's heart thundered in his body, feeling like it was about to batter its way through his ribcage. Grabbing Sam's wrist, he pulled his lover's fingers up to his mouth and flicked his tongue between them before drawing them into his mouth. As his tongue swirled around Sam’s flesh he couldn’t help but arch up off the floor seeking out more of the heat that thrummed along his flesh.

Sam felt the curl of desire in the pit of his stomach, causing his hips to jerk forward almost desperate for friction. He pulled his fingers back from Dean’s grip, slipping them quickly between their bodies and shoving two of them hard up in Dean. The demon’s body instantly rocked down against his fingers and Sam moaned, falling over Dean’s body so their lips could slide together once more. “Want me in you Dean?” Sam murmured against Dean’s mouth, spreading his fingers, twisting apart and pushing hard back in.

Dean's entire body twisted to the side, it burned and he _wanted_ it more than he ever wanted anything. Trying to hold himself up slightly, Dean let his head fall back. "Please. Want you," he murmured.

“You’re so good at begging.” Sam teased with a smirk, remembering when he’d first said that to Dean. It felt like a whole life time ago.

A few more quick slides of his fingers and Sam pulled back, spitting down into his palm a few times before quickly stroking around himself. There wasn’t going to be anything soft or gentle about this, Sam needed Dean just as bad as Dean needed him and he didn’t feel like waiting. Pushing back to his heels, Sam stroked quickly along himself and shoved at Dean, flipping him over onto his hands and knees and drawing him up.

Sam slid forward in one swift movement, slapping his hand hard down on Dean’s hip to draw him back to meet the thrust. He felt Dean’s body tense up, adjusting to the intrusion and Sam bent half over him, panting already as he adjusted to the tight heat. “Good?” He murmured, stroking a hand down Dean’s spine.

Dean's muscles tightened in a wave under Sam's touch. It was always the same with Sam - each touch, each sound sent waves of desire slamming into Dean. Nearly blind with lust, Dean rocked back on his hands and knees pushing Sam deeper. "Fuck, yes..."

The feel of Sam's cock splitting him open, burning into him made Dean cry out. His entire body was trembling, muscles rippling where his body was touching Sam's. He lived for this now, the _want_ and getting what he wanted. _This_. Sam fucking into him, strong and hard. _Rough_. "Do it, just...fuck, Sam. Please."

“God I love when you need me like this.” Sam grumbled, not sure Dean could understand what he was saying. The words felt like they were vibrating in his chest, pulling from him a half moan. Then Dean’s muscles were clenching tight around him and Sam groaned, pulling his hips back and snapping forward hard and fast.

He could barely breathe, the pace he set for himself instantly hard and sharp. Sam’s hips continued a steady thrust forward, fingers curving and digging hard into Dean’s hip bones to keep him there to take each hard thrust. Beneath him he could feel Dean’s body trembling, knew his own was feeling the surge of power and pleasure sparking between them.

Each thrust sent Dean's mind spinning; he was gasping for air. His fingers curled into Sam's jacket beneath him and he pushed up trying to get closer to Sam. He wanted Sam's hands everywhere on him, wanted the heat of his lover's chest pressed up against his back. He wanted to feel the heat, the sweat, _everything._

Sam lost track of time as he thrust into Dean. All he could hear was the rush of his blood in his ears and Dean’s breath, ragged and rough, harsher with each hard slap forward. At some point his body bent over Dean’s, arms sliding around Dean’s body. One hand pressed against Dean’s chest, nearly lifting him off the ground to drive deeper. His other hand curled around Dean’s cock, stroking in sharp twisting pulls that matched the quick snap of his hips deep within him.

The instant Sam's hand was on him Dean felt his orgasm swell to life. Letting his head fall back, he strained to press his lips against the corner of Sam's mouth, tongue lapping at the lingering taste of his own blood. His hands covered Sam's and he gasped as everything kind of blew apart inside him. Sam's hips were slamming into him, shifting him on the floor. Knees scraping along the concrete, Dean cried out as he peaked. Shuddering, he felt everything inside him tighten, clench and release as he came.

Muscles clenched hard around Sam, causing his hips to still for a moment as he sucked in a ragged breath and struggled to keep his eyes open. Heat from Dean’s come was smearing along his fingers and Sam moaned, falling against Dean’s back as his orgasm tore through him. His hips stilled against Dean’s body, slowly circling as he worked through his release.

Sam forced himself to pull back so he didn’t crush Dean against the cold cement. Instead he dropped down and snagged Dean, pulling the demon across his chest and holding him there. He was still panting, hand stroking through Dean’s sweat damp hair. “Jesus,” he whispered, pressing his lips hard to Dean’s temple.

Smirking against Sam's damp chest, Dean reached up and rubbed his thumb across the man’s' bottom lip. "He didn't have a _thing_ to do with it."

Snorting a laugh, Sam closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “Smart ass.” He smacked Dean’s ass for good measure, lips pulling up in a wide smile even as his tongue flicked out over Dean’s thumb.

Body still buzzing and twitching, Dean melted against Sam’s chest. “Sam, you did good tonight. You saved those people.” Now that Dean was over his idiotic fit of jealousy, which hadn’t actually turned out to be so bad all things considered, the full impact of what Sam had done was hitting him.

“Felt good, knowing I could save you all.” Sam murmured and draped his arm loosely over Dean’s middle. “I want to do that more, save more people. Hey you think, later maybe, I could ask about the details? You know, for Lilith and all. Maybe there’s a way to stop it before that point even, we know what I can do, we can use it for good and not what they want.”

Frowning slightly, Dean looked up at Sam’s face. That was his hunter, saving people - always thinking about the best way to look out for everyone other than himself. Dean’s lips twitched into a shy smile. “I’m glad you saved all of us too. Mostly though, I’m glad you... glad that you’re mine.”

“I’m glad I’m yours too.” Sam smiled softly down at Dean then slowly sat up, smirking when he gathered Dean up in his lap. “I do believe I’ve brought out the human in you... Dean.” Sam paused for a moment, head tilting to the side as he considered the demon. “Do you remember your last name? Or did it just not matter after everything?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Dean shrugged and tugged on the pendent around Sam’s neck. “I’m Dean. I’m your _Demon._.” He looked down; sometimes it still made him feel less than what Sam was worth.

“How about you’re just mine?” Sam asked quietly and touched Dean’s chin. After a moment he dropped his hand and tugged the ring off his thumb. It was cheesy, but he slipped it onto Dean’s finger, grinning up at him. “You can be a Winchester, it’s an alright name to have.”

Shaking his head, Dean laughed but he pulled his hand back and made sure the ring was on his finger properly. Twisting it slowly, he looked down at the silver as it glinted in the half-light of the warehouse. "Dean Winchester. It's not bad."

“Sounds fitting.” Sam nodded and smiled at Dean, tilting his head up so their lips could brush together. “So what do you say? We gonna tackle the big bad whatever together?” Sam kissed along Dean’s jaw, threading his fingers through Dean’s and brushing the ring there. “Me and my pretty little wifey,” he teased, smirking when he felt Dean’s indignant huff.

“Not if you’re gonna call me that, Sunshine.” Pressing his lips together to hide his smile Dean pressed his fist to Sam’s chest. “You know it’s, like, a million to one chance we can stop this right?”

“Ah come on, give us a little more credit than that.” Sam dipped down to bump his forehead against Dean’s, smirk dancing across his lips. “Probably like, half a million to one. Totally plausible.” Sam hauled himself up to his feet and grabbed Dean, tugging him up as well. “You know it means I’m gonna have to start drinking a lot more of your blood.”

“I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.” Dean pressed up against Sam’s warmth, arms slipping over his shoulders. “Sam, I’m serious. We don’t have much of a chance. If you wanna walk away - I can. I can get deeper in all this mess and try to stop anyone from finding you.” Dean lowered his gaze. “That’s the only reason I would leave you. If I could save you.”

“Stop it Dean.” Sam cupped Dean’s jaw and tilted his gaze up, smiling softly down at the demon. “I don’t want you to leave for any reason. I want to do this, find a way to stop it. Even if it’s too hard and we’ll put everything at risk. Can’t just sit in the background knowing there’s something I could be doing.” Sam dipped down and gently kissed Dean, fingers skittering down his side. “We just have to train harder.”

“We should probably go back to the motel, get naked and start that training thing.” Dean licked his lips and _let_ his eyes darken.

“We are naked.” Sam pointed out with a laugh, dipping down to grab his shirt. “But it’s a good and solid plan. We’ll work on my tolerance level, build it up.” He pushed jeans at Dean and grinned, feeling just a little bit high on the power and rush of what he’d done, what they were both going to do.

“Alright, Sammy.” Dean grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. “And beer. We need more beer.”

“Can demon’s become alcoholics?” Sam considered, slipping quickly into his clothes and looking around for his shoes. “You know Dean; the beer might affect your blood or something. It could be diluting it. That other demon’s blood was undiluted and I pulled out all of them. Also, I was on an adrenaline high, but still.”

“Sam. Beer!” Dean threw his hands out and studied Sam’s face. “Fine,” he muttered as he tugged his shirt down over his head. “But then I get lots of sex.” Scowling he snatched his jacket off the floor. It seemed like a reasonable trade.

“Okay Dean, you can have lots of sex.” Sam nodded, grinning over at Dean as if he were going out of his way to please him. Like he wouldn’t want to have lots of sex as well which was quite clearly untrue. “C’mon, I’ll even be a gentleman and take you to dinner first, seeing as you got beat up and all.”

“I like dates,” Dean said. Grabbing Sam’s hand, he dragged him toward the front of the warehouse.

“You’ve never been on a date.” Sam mumbled, allowing Dean to pull him along. It was odd to be smiling in light of everything, but it felt good too. “And no Dean, the time in Missouri with the slime monster followed by the piece of pie and the fucking on the hood of the car does not count, good try though.”


End file.
